Grade School
by The Path of Supreme Conquest
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. This is his life now: pretending to be a normal 10 year old at school all for the sake of the public. But, honestly, the public would rather he not. Damian is not the best actor of the family.
1. The First Day of School

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, threats. And multiple traumatized civilians.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Colin Wilkes (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like suffer through the first day of school.

* * *

Damian resisted the urge to sigh as Grayson peeked into the room hesitantly. He didn't want to be bothered right now, but he knew that putting up resistance when Grayson was genuinely worried was pointless.

Of course, Grayson had no need to worry, but try telling the idiot that.

"Dami? Mind if I come in?"

Damian snorted and closed his sketchbook. "What do you want, Grayson? Come to fetch me for _school_?" he spat.

Grayson walked into the room, a weak smile on his face. "Come on, Little D, it won't be so bad."

Damian stared at him.

"Okay," Grayson acquiesced, holding his hands up. "I can see how this would be bad from your point of view, but-"

"Can you?" Damian asked sarcastically, unable to stop his vitriol. "I find that surprising, given the fact that even Father can't."

("But Father-"

"This will be good for you, Damian."

"I'll be surrounded by... children!"

"You're a child, Damian."

"Regardless, I'm not one of them; they're ignorant and naive! What's the point of putting me in school with them? Especially when I already know everything they could attempt to teach me! I-"

"That's enough, Damian. You're going to school, and that's final.")

Grayson sighed heavily and sat down next to him on the bed.

"I know it seems that way, but Bruce really does get it."

"I doubt that," Damian grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away.

"...I know. But he does. He just... B has good reasons for wanting to send you to school."

"Like what?"

Grayson grinned wryly. "It may seem hypocritical - and I know it doesn't matter to you - but B wants you to... make friends. Your own age."

Damian stared at his eldest brother blankly.

( _He can't be serious._ )

"You're joking."

Grayson laughed, grinning brightly. "No. I'm not."

"That... is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. And I've listened to your useless blabbering for hours on end before."

Grayson spluttered. "Hey!"

"What does it matter? There's no way they could relate to me. Besides, there's Colin."

Grayson smiled slyly, making Damian glare. He had no idea why members of his "family" insisted on teasing him about having a friend. Or the fact that he called him by his first name. They were all ridiculous, really.

"Well," Grayson began, clearing his throat, "he actually wants you to have... normal friends. Normal kids. He thinks it'll be good for you. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but, just... give it a try, all right?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope, but you should still try!" Grayson exclaimed, ruffling Damian's hair and pulling him close.

"Grayson! Cease this at once! Let me go!"

His brother ignored him and planted a kiss on his cheek, making Damian gag. Grayson simply laughed and stood up, pulling Damian with him. He smiled softly and began straightening Damian's uniform and finger combing his hair.

Damian gave a perfunctory grumble, but didn't bother struggling.

Grayson looked at him affectionately. "Do you want to bring your sketchbook? No, probably best not to. Now, grab your backpack and head out. Alfie's waiting for you. And say goodbye to B and the others on your way out."

"Yes, Grayson," Damian agreed with a put upon sigh.

"I love you, Dami. Have a good day."

Damian looked down and walked past him. "Thank you, Grayson," he muttered, ignoring the older male's laugh.

( _My face had better not be red._ )

* * *

Damian glared at the whiteboard from his position in the back of the class. This was what he got for having "W" as the first letter of his last name. His seat was one of the least defensible in the entire classroom. If there were an attack, there would be no way for him to immediately counter and protect civilians.

This was going to be a disaster. He could already tell.

"Hello, class, my name is Ms. Andrews! I'll be your teacher this year; I hope we can all get along and get to know one another better!"

There was an echo of "Hello, Ms. Andrews", but all Damian could muster was a sneer. Honestly, this woman didn't seem particularly suited for this job. She was supposed to be teaching the children of Gotham's elite and she lacked the professionalism and sternness that he had expected.

"Now, why don't we all introduce ourselves? We'll give our names, and tell a little bit about ourselves. For example, I play the violin, and used to be the 3rd seat in the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra. Now, let's go in alphabetical order, hmm?"

Damian zoned out halfway through the first introduction. He had contemplated actually paying attention, but decided it was pointless. Having information on these juveniles wouldn't assist him in any way. If he ever did need the information for some unimaginable reason, he'd simply blackmail Drake into finding it for him.

( _This is a complete waste of time._ )

* * *

Damian had to stop himself from attacking when someone reached out to touch him, instead settling for leaning out of the way and shooting a glare at the boy next to him.

The boy recoiled. "It's your turn," he whispered nervously.

"Tt." Damian stood up crossing his arms and scowling. "Damian Wayne."

"Hello, Damian, can you tell us something about yourself?" Andrews asked, nauseatingly saccharine.

Damian almost refused her.

( "Nope, but you should still try!")

Damian inwardly cursed his brother. The idiot was infecting his him.

He sighed. What would he say? It seemed as though they were supposed to say something they were proud of, and since he couldn't mention being Robin...

"I once drugged my brother's coffee, barred his windows, and locked his door so that he couldn't escape once he woke up."

( _That should be sufficient._ )

Everyone was staring at him. He cocked an eyebrow as he sat down, unsure what the sudden hush was about.

Andrews gaped at him. "D-Damian...that's... uh... um... who's next?" she finished weakly.

"Tt," Damian muttered, confused at the woman's stuttering, but pleased that she hadn't decided to say anything to him.

He was going to attempt to cooperate in this ridiculous endeavor, but he didn't want to speak with these people more than he had to.

* * *

The elementary level cafeteria was spacious, luxurious - and boring. It wasn't anything he hadn't expected, and the decor wasn't nearly as tasteful as at the Manor. The interior decorators obviously didn't have Pennyworth's taste.

He didn't bother getting in line, instead sitting at the table with the best vantage point and opening the lunch box that Pennyworth had packed for him.

One vegetarian wrap, fresh baked pita bread, and homemade humus.

And a note.

Damian arched an eyebrow at the brilliant blue slip of paper.

 _(Grayson's work, obviously._ )

" _Hey, Dami! I hope you're okay. You're already half-way through the day and you'll be home before you know it! I'm sure you're doing great; keep up the good work. Love you!"_

Damian sighed at the absolute sappiness of his brother. What in the world was wrong with him?

He stashed the note back in the lunch box and pulled out his food.

 _*Ring*_

He frowned slightly and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes as he read the caller ID.

"What do you want, Brown? Shouldn't you be failing a class?"

She snorted. "First day of school starts tomorrow for me, brat."

"Why are you calling? I'm trying to eat lunch."

"Can't see what's so appealing about a vegetarian lunch."

"Of course _you_ can't. What do you want?"

"Today, after school, you and me, kid. You had better be ready."

Damian blinked. "What are you talking about, Brown?"

Brown gave an over-dramatic gasp. "You mean you forgot? _Vigilante Watch, Playing for Keeps, and The Upper Crust: Gotham's Elite_ recorded today!"

Damian's eyes widened in excitement, but he made sure to keep his voice level. "You mean those stupid reality shows you make me watch?"

"Yes. Those. So you'd better be ready."

"I'll have homework."

"No one has homework on the first day."

He forced a realistic sigh. "Fine, you'll only keep bothering me about it otherwise."

"I knew you'd come around; if I didn't know better, I'd even think you liked watching those shows with me. Have a good day, Dami!"

"Don't be an idiot," he denied smoothly. "Goodbye, Brown."

He hung up the phone and looked up, raising his eyebrow. A group of students had approached him while he had been on the phone and then they had simply stood there, watching him.

He'd been content to ignore them while he was talking, but now they were just annoying him.

"What?" he bit out.

They stared at him and then each other before the apparent leader took a step forward.

"This is our table."

Damian resisted the urge to groan. This was as cliche as the sitcoms that Brown used to make him watch. And he didn't feel like dealing with a bunch of territorial children.

( _What had Father been thinking?_ )

"Sit down then," Damian snapped, going back to his lunch.

If these interruptions didn't stop, he'd never finish eating.

He'd never even start.

"Leave."

Damian looked up slowly, glare firmly in place. He was pleased to see them step back, but he didn't let it show. He stood up languidly, leaning across the table. They were all taller than he was, but he'd learned to be intimidating in spite of being shorter than his opponents.

"Listen to me now," he hissed. "I don't care what you brainless poltroons do, but if you don't stop talking to me, I will destroy all of you and run you out of this school before you have the chance to cry for your, likely, underpaid nannies. So shut up and either sit down or sit somewhere else."

Damian made sure to look each of them in the eye before sitting back down and turning to his lunch.

He sighed in frustration as a few of the idiots began to cry before they all ran away.

( _Babies._ )

* * *

"Andrews."

The teacher started and turned around, pausing in writing the equation on the whiteboard.

"Who-"

"Andrews, I demand you fix this."

She gaped at him. "Uh... Damian... Call me Ms. Andrews, please. And raise your hand."

He shot her a look. "Don't ignore the problem here, Andrews."

She went slightly red. "Damian-"

"I demand to be moved."

Everyone in class was staring at him. Again. It was as though they had nothing better to do. They probably didn't.

"Moved? What-"

"These idiots sitting next to me won't shut up. I demand to be moved to a different part of the class before they somehow manage to lower my IQ simply with their presence."

"Hey!"

"We're not idiots!"

"Andrews."

The woman only spluttered at him unintelligibly.

( _Incompetence._ )

Damian stood up, grabbing his things and moving to the front of the class. He stood in front of the second seat from the door - close enough to the main entrance to stop any intruders, and close enough to the window that he would be able to run the few meters to the secondary entry point in seconds should the need arise.

He raised an eyebrow at the girl staring at him open-mouthed.

"Get up," he ordered.

"Wh-but-"

He glared. She immediately stood, grabbed her stuff, and headed to the back of the room. He took his new seat and stared at his teacher, unaffected by her look of utter shock.

"You may continue class now, Andrews."

She let out what sounded like a whimper, making Damian roll his eyes.

( _Everyone is this stupid place is ridiculous._ )

* * *

Grayson opened the door when Damian arrived at the Manor with Pennyworth, all smiles and wide open arms.

"Excuse me, Master Richard," Pennyworth murmured, slipping past Grayson.

Damian sighed and submitted himself to the inevitable hug with as much grace as he could muster. It wasn't that bad anyway.

When Grayson let him go - still grinning - and ushered him into the Manor, Damian sniffed.

"If you missed me so much, perhaps you could consider telling Father not to make me go back."

Grayson pouted in a way that no grown man should be able to. "So you didn't have fun?"

"Did you just ask the _Demonspawn_ if he had fun at school?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Todd has a point."

"Is the world ending?" Drake asked, amused.

"The world ends when I agree with you, Drake, so there's no need to worry about an apocalypse ever occurring."

Drake sneered at him and went back to eating his sandwich.

"So," Brown said, coming into the room with Cain following after her. "Are we going to get any calls from the school today?"

Damian blinked in thought.

"Agh! Dami, just say no!" Grayson begged, clasping his hands in desperation. "Please. Please. Please!"

"Oh my- I didn't even think about the stories! The stories, Babybird, the stories!"

"Hold on," Tim said, putting his sandwich down. "I need to record this for posterity."

"Did something happen at school?" Cain asked, cocking her head and looking at him.

Damian snorted. "Not if you don't count the general idiocy I've come to expect from others."

"Details," Todd demanded. "I need details."

"Tt. First, I need to speak to father to talk about being pulled out of that useless institution."

"I hope he says no," Todd muttered, making Damian glare.

"Okay, Bruce, then stories, then we watch reality television!" Brown exclaimed.

"I just wanted him to have a good day," Grayson moaned.

"You expected too much," Damian stated along with Drake.

The two of them stared at each other in revulsion.

Cain stole Drake's sandwich. "The world is ending."


	2. Knives

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, bad commentary from ridiculous but adorable boys.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like leave weapons at home.

* * *

Dick walked into Damian's room with a smile on his face. "You ready, Dami?"

"In a minute, Grayson."

"You'll be late~"

Damian gave him a look that very clearly said, "And I care why?", but what came out of his mouth was, "You drive faster than Pennyworth; I'm hardly worried."

"Are you insinuating that I break road laws?"

"Are you trying to say you don't?"

Dick's snicker was cut off abruptly when he saw what his little brother was doing.

"DAMIAN!"

Damian turned to him sharply, looking confused. "What are you yelling about, Grayson?"

"You can't bring knives to school, Damian!"

"Why not? I did it yesterday."

Dick put a hand to his head and took in a deep breath. "Well, then we can be glad that the only thing your teacher called about was your disrespect and your lies."

"I wasn't lying about drugging Drake."

"I know, but she thought you were. Which was a good thing, otherwise there would have been a whole lot more questions."

"Tt."

"Damian. No knives, please."

Damian shot him a glare, but took the four knives out of his backpack. "Fine. But if something happens and I can't properly defend-"

"I've seen you fight hand-to-hand, Damian," Dick cut in wryly. "You'll be fine."

Damian grumbled under his breath and slipped his now knife-free backpack on. "Let's go, then."

"Right."

* * *

Dick smiled as Jason went through Damian's backpack looking for a pencil.

"Find another pencil, Todd!" Damian snarled.

"I'd rather take one of yours- Is this my knife?" Jason asked, pulling the weapon from the depths of Damian's backpack with an incredulous expression.

"You brought a knife to school?" Tim asked, not sounding surprised.

"I could have cut myself! And why do you have my knife?"

"It's my knife now; you threw it at me, and then I claimed it. Therefore, it belongs to me."

"Yeah, well, you could have warned me," Jason muttered, somehow not able to argue with that logic. And also, unfazed by the fact that Damian had brought a knife to school.

Dick wondered if he was the only sane member of the family - and how was that possible?

( _Wait, there's still Cass and Alfie. We're good._ )

"Damian!"

"Again, Grayson?"

"I told you this morning not to bring knives to school. You took them out of your backpack!"

"I took four out of my backpack. You didn't really think I would only take four knives with me, did you?"

"Because all the other kids take five," Tim interjected snidely.

Damian snarled silently.

"Damian!" Dick repeated, because honestly - this was unbelievable, but at the same time, entirely predictable.

( _How did I miss that?_ )

"If you don't want me taking knives to school, then do a better search," Damian stated, snatching his bag from Jason who was still looking for a pencil.

"Brat."

"I'm going to train."

Dick groaned and buried his face in his hands.

He didn't feel like getting a call tomorrow.

It was _so_ on.

* * *

"No, Damian. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't bring weapons to school?"

"Grayson, If I get attacked-"

"No, Dami."

"Or see a crime in progress-"

"You're in elementary school!"

"Age doesn't prevent people from performing crimes, Grayson."

"You can't bring knives to school."

Damian glared at him as he went through the younger's backpack, but Dick remained unaffected.

If Damian wanted him to search better, then he'd search better.

"So, how much you wanna' bet Dick doesn't find all the knives?"

"I hate to say it, but it's a sucker's bet," Tim replied.

Dick pouted at them. "Thanks for the support guys."

Jason gave him a thumbs up, and Dick rolled his eyes.

( _Younger brothers. Really._ )

"Ha!" Dick exclaimed, pulling a knife out of the pencil case.

"That's where the pencils were."

"Where else, genius?"

"Shut up, Tim."

Damian gritted his teeth as he stared at Dick, and Dick just smirked, giving the backpack back. "Now, you can go. Tell Alfie I'm sorry to keep him waiting."

Damian snatched his backpack away and stomped off, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

"Should've bet on Dickiebird."

"Yeah, didn't see that coming."

"Did you check his pockets?" Cass asked, speaking for the first time.

The three of them stared at her.

Dick cursed. "DAMIAN!"

"I didn't think Babybat could act that well, honestly," Jason commented.

"Demon's full of surprises."

* * *

"Empty your pockets," Dick demanded, as soon as Damian stepped through the front door.

"Tim!" Jason yelled. "Tim, our new favorite show is on!"

"Pause it; I'm coming!"

Dick rolled his eyes and turned to look at his other brothers. "You two are so not helping."

"Shame," Jason drawled.

"Because we, obviously, live to be useful," Tim said.

"Pockets, Dami," Dick repeated, deciding to ignore them.

Damian cocked an eyebrow, looking at them all with a mixture of exasperation and outright annoyance, but complied. Dick frowned when there were no knives.

"It almost seems as though you wanted me to have taken knives to school, Grayson. Have you changed your mind?"

Dick eyed him curiously, crossing his arms.

"And Nightwing is thrown for a loop as Robin comes up clean!" Jason muttered.

"Will this be the end of the elder vigilante's knife-searching days? Has Robin given up his life of crime as a weapon's smuggler?" Tim chimed in.

Jason and Tim snickered at the look Dick shot them.

 _(They're not helping at all._ )

"Give me your backpack," Dick said suddenly.

The smirk fell off of Damian's face. "You already-"

"Backpack, Dami," Dick said, grinning.

There was a pause as they stared at one another. Then Damian took off. Dick's jaw dropped.

"Is he serious?"

"They always run; don't they know that never works?" Tim asked dryly.

"And the chase begins!" Jason commented.

Dick could hear his brothers following after him and he shook his head, wondering what it was about this family.

( _Honestly. This is insane_.)

The three of them came to a stop in the hallway, and Dick had to muffle his laughter. Tim and Jason didn't even try.

Damian shot a glare at them before going back to reaching for his backpack; Cass was holding it conveniently out of his reach. Dick wondered when she'd come to the conclusion that she should join in when it came to teasing Damian.

"Cain," Damian muttered, gritting his teeth and balling his fists at his sides.

Cass just shrugged and walked over to them, handing Dick the backpack. Dick grinned at her, winking.

"I can't believe you ran," Dick said, turning to Damian and putting a hand on his hip, doing his best to come off less amused and more stern. He wasn't sure it was working.

"This isn't over, Grayson," Damian said, stomping off to his room.

Dick chuckled and unzipped the backpack. "Six, really? Six knives," he said, staring at Cass.

"And Robin's dastardly plot is foiled thanks to the efforts of Blackbat and Nightwing."

"Tune in tomorrow for the next episode of Nightwing vs. Robin!" Jason exclaimed.

"You two are having way too much fun with this."

Tim gave Dick an unimpressed look. "This is literally the only good part about having Damian as my younger brother; let me enjoy it, please."

Jason snickered, and Dick just sighed.

"Thank you for being the sane one, Cass."

She smiled. "Only for now."

* * *

Dick groaned as he looked at the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Tim asked, looking up from his computer.

"Damian's school."

( _Should they even be calling while he's still there? I don't want to answer this._ )

"Oh my- Jay! Jay! It's happening!"

Dick groaned as Jason jogged into the living room from the kitchen.

"What's happening?"

"The school is calling."

"What?" Jason asked sharply, turning to Dick and the still ringing phone. "Answer it, Dick! I swear if you don't, I will never forgive you."

"Seconded. And put it on speaker."

Dick closed his eyes in exasperation before picking up the phone doing his best to pretend he wasn't dreading this call.

"Hello?" he greeted.

"Speaker!" Jason hissed.

Dick complied just as Cass walked into the room. She cocked her head at the scene, but joined Jason and Tim as soon as the person on the other line spoke.

"Hello, this is Ms. Andrews, Damian's teacher. I'm looking for Mr. Wayne."

"He's at work right now, but I'm Damian's older brother, and his guardian when Bruce isn't around. Did something happen?"

Dick stuck his tongue out as his three siblings leaned forward to hear better.

"Well…" her voice was hesitant and weary – like she'd been dealing with this for too long. Dick supposed Damian could have that effect on people sometimes.

"What is it?" Dick prodded, ready to get this over with.

"He… he brought a knife to school. I saw it when his… ankle holster came loose."

Dick looked over and saw Cass's shoulder's shaking, and Tim's face going red from the effort of suppressing his laughter, and Jason…

Jason was on his knees, hands clasped, mouthing "Thank you" at the ceiling. Because apparently this was what he had been praying for.

( _Ankle holster. Why didn't I check for that?_ )

"Um… hello? Mr.-"

"Grayson," Dick supplied, tone blank.

"Mr. Grayson, Damian technically hasn't broken any school rules, given there's nothing in the student handbook that says a student can't have weapons. But… that's only because no one ever thought a student would actually bring a weapon into Gotham Academy."

A strangled laugh slipped past Tim's lips.

"Oh, what was that?"

"Cat's coughing up a hairball," Dick answered apathetically.

He dealt with way too much stuff really. He should probably stop making a big deal out of it.

Jason squeezed Tim's shoulder, trying not to laugh himself.

"Oh. Well, there's no disciplinary action we can take, but I thought you should know, and, if you wouldn't mind, could you stop Damian from bringing any more knives to school?"

"Of course. I'm sorry for the trouble."

She gave a short hysterical laugh. "No trouble," she assured weakly.

Tim let out a high-pitched laugh that cut off sharply when Cass put her hand over his mouth, still letting out silent giggles.

"What-"

"The cat was dying; it choked on its hairball."

"Oh- oh! I'm so sorry."

"It's okay; it was Damian's cat. He didn't like it much anyway."

Tim tried to glare, but was too busy trying not to let anymore laughter escape.

"…Oh. Okay. Um… have a nice day."

"You too."

All bets were off when he hung up, and Tim and Jason began howling with laughter. Dick thought they probably shouldn't take so much pleasure in this, but even Cass was giving small little gasps from laughing so hard.

Dick threw his head back and sighed. "I can't even deal with you guys right now."

* * *

"Okay, Damian," Dick said, kneeling and putting his hands on his little brother's shoulders.

Damian blinked. "Grayson?"

"Mandatory backpack checks before and after school. If you manage to get something past me, please, please, _please_ , don't get caught."

"Why do I feel like this is maybe bad advice to give the Demon?"

Jason snorted.

Damian eyed Dick carefully before nodding, handing his backpack over voluntarily. "That sounds fair, I suppose."

Dick grinned lightly and ruffled Damian's hair. "An ankle holster. I didn't think you'd go that far, honestly. I'm impressed."

"I went further actually."

"Don't say anything," Tim interrupted. "I want plausible deniability when you end up stabbing someone at school and they call us in as character witnesses."

Damian sneered. "Shut up, Drake."

"Make me, Demon."

Dick smiled through his sigh. "You're all ridiculous."

"Yeah, yeah, who are you betting on for this fight?"

"Damian," Cass said quietly. "Tim hasn't slept in 3 days."

( _But I still love them_.)


	3. Gym Class

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, extremely light angst, which is way more than I intended, to be honest. This was supposed to be funny. But the ending isn't angsty, so…

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Alfred the Cat, Titus

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like participate in gym class.

* * *

Damian wrinkled his nose as Andrews led the entire class to the gym. The facility was top of line – as all buildings on Gotham Academy's campus were.

The Batcave was better.

Still, this was the only class Damian was looking forward to.

It was a shame that they only had physical education on Friday.

("It's your fault, you know."

"How so, Todd? They've had this schedule since before my time."

"It's built up karma. For being such a brat all the time. And that one time you tried to stab me with a pen. And that one time you _actually_ stabbed me with a pen. And that time you sent Titus to chase after me for no reason."

"There was a reason."

"Yeah, what?"

"You exist."

"Karma.")

"All right class!" Andrews said in that annoying voice she used. She clapped her hands and smiled at them. "This is Mr. Carmichael and his assistant Ms. James. They'll teach P.E. every Friday for the rest of the year. I'll be back to pick you up after class is over. Mr. Carmichael, Ms. James, I'll leave you to it."

The three of them shared a meaningful look before they shot a glance at him, making Damian narrow his eyes. He leaned forward to better read their lips.

"Watch him," Andrews said.

"Don't worry; we'll handle it," Carmichael replied.

( _What does that mean? Are they planning something? Preparing a kidnapping attempt for ransom, perhaps? I'll have to be on guard then. Still, I'm impressed; I didn't think Andrews had it in her.)_

"All right, kids," Carmichael began, speaking so everyone could hear him, "first things first: you'll have to change into your gym clothes. Ms. James and I will be standing right outside the doors; shout if anything goes wrong."

Damian glared at the smile on the man's face. "Shout if anything goes wrong"? Was that a joke? Was he using that phrase to signal to further co-conspirators that it was best to try and take him in the locker rooms?

Damian scoffed. They might think that it would be easy, but-

The civilians. Of course. They couldn't possibly know his identity; the family was too careful for that. Not to mention he had made sure not to give anything away whatsoever. But, regardless of their lack of knowledge, they had managed to pin him in; he wouldn't be able to fight properly if he were surrounded. And he wouldn't have his knife with him in the gym uniform.

Damian cursed under his breath. He needed to think this through, but he didn't have much more time before they would reach the locker rooms. What he really needed to do was get to an isolated area…

( _Maybe…_ )

Van Buren would have do. He was annoying anyway.

Damian scowled and pushed the boy walking next to him hard enough so that he fell. Van Buren hit the floor with a thud and cried out.

Everyone turned to look at them, but that was what Damian wanted.

"Hey, you okay, kid?" Carmichael asked, coming over to them.

( _Ha! Putting on a caring façade._ )

"Yes, Van Buren. Are you all right? That was a nasty spill," Damian said coolly, extending his hand.

Van Buren glared. "What do you- you're the one who pushed me!"

"Did you hit your head on the way down? Or are you just making up stories?" Damian asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You pushed me! Mr. Carmichael, Damian pushed me!"

( _That's what I wanted him to do, but…_ )

"Brat," he hissed.

Might as well go all out.

"Damian!" Carmichael snapped.

"Carmichael," Damian returned, staring at the teacher.

The man pursed his lips. "Martha, watch the kids for me; let them play a game or something. To the office, Damian. Let's go."

"Gladly."

* * *

Dick groaned as Tim finished telling Bruce about Damian's week. Though, honestly, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it'd be. Tim had completely left out the knife incident, for which Dick was grateful. Bruce probably would have grounded Damian from patrol if he had known.

As it were, Bruce was just preparing to give Damian a "stern talking to".

At least, he was, until Dick got the phone call.

"Hello?" Dick asked, already dreading what he would hear.

He really wanted Damian's school to stop calling.

"Hello, this is the Deputy Headmaster of Gotham Academy, Mr. Greenridge."

Dick pulled the phone away from his face and stared at it.

( _Really, Dami? The Deputy Headmaster? Really? You don't do anything by halves._ )

"Um… I'm sorry. This is Dick Grayson, Damian's eldest brother. Bruce can't talk right now," ( _Because he's in the Batcave and if he knew the Deputy Headmaster had called, he would absolutely blow up_.) "What happened?"

"Well…"

( _That's a pause. That's not good_.)

"Damian pushed a student down while he was in gym and when Mr. Carmichael, the gym teacher, was taking him to the office…"

"What happened?" Dick repeated.

"Damian… threatened Mr. Carmichael."

Dick closed his eyes. "What did he say exactly?"

"'If you think I'll let you take me, you're wrong. I will end you, Carmichael. I will destroy everything you've ever loved and held dear. I will gouge out your eyes and keep them as a trophy. Don't test me, Carmichael. And tell Andrews and James I'll do the same to them.' Damian is being suspended for a week. If you would come and get him…"

"I'll be right there," Dick said. "Thank you for calling."

"Of course. Have a nice day."

"Thank you, you too."

Dick hung up and took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

Dick turned around and gave a strained smile at Cass. "Damian got suspended."

She blinked.

"What."

Dick closed his eyes. "Bruce-"

"I can't believe he-"

"Bruce, please," Dick interrupted. "Let me go get him, all right. I'll talk to him. Off patrol for a week?"

"Two," Bruce growled, but he walked away, so Dick figured that was a win for him.

Sort of.

* * *

"Why is Todd here?"

"Really? That's what you start out with? Just be glad Timmers decided to stay home, you little brat," Todd said.

"Tt."

"And I'm here to relish in your punishment."

"Jay!"

Damian slid into the back seat of the car, crossing his arms and staring out the window, intent to ignore the two idiots in the front seat.

"Two weeks," Grayson said, interrupting the silence. "No patrol, B's orders. He's back, by the way. Came home while you were at school."

Damian gritted his teeth, but nodded. "It's not unexpected."

Grayson looked at him in the rearview mirror. "What happened, Dami? I know you wouldn't just threaten a civilian for no reason."

Damian huffed. "Does it matter? I'm still suspended and grounded from patrol."

"It matters to me," Grayson said softly, looking back at him when they reached a red light.

Damian sighed. "It was preemptive defense. Carmichael was teaming up with Andrews and James to kidnap me and sell me for ransom."

Todd choked on his cigarette.

( _Serves him right for smoking.)_

Grayson spluttered. "WHAT? Are you- really? How do you know?"

"The three of them shared a significant look before glancing my way. Andrews said, 'Watch him,' and Carmichael replied with, 'Don't worry; we'll handle it.' Not to mention when Carmichael was directing us to the changing rooms, he said, 'Shout if anything goes wrong.' It was obvious they were planning to take me in the changing rooms and were likely signaling their accomplices. So, I made a scene to get him to take me out of the gym, thus isolating the two of us and taking care of the witnesses, while rendering his accomplices inert. Then I dealt with him. I imagine that I was intimidating enough to dissuade him from trying again."

Todd twisted in his seat and looked back at him, an incredulous expression on his face. "Babybat, that is the most insubstantial evidence for a kidnapping that I have ever heard of."

"Don't be stupid, Todd. Of course they were planning to kidnap me. Why else would they be sharing suspicious looks and then looking at me? And talking like that?"

Grayson let out a pitiful sounding sigh. "Because of this."

"What?"

"That's Dickiebird's vague way of saying that you're a problem child," Todd said dryly.

Damian scowled. "That makes no sense. What have I done to warrant that title?"

Todd guffawed unattractively. "Tim is going to have a field day with this."

Damian's scowl deepened. "I don't understand your idiotic babbling, Todd!"

"Dami, why would you assume that they wanted to kidnap you? I mean, there are just so many other explanations," Grayson said.

"Like what? Besides Todd's ridiculous 'problem child' theory."

Grayson was silent. "It sort of makes sense from his point of view, if you think about it. I mean, this is Damian."

Todd snorted. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, the kid's as paranoid as B, so…"

"It's not paranoia! In fact, I demand a transfer to a new class once my suspension is lifted, since I doubt Father will pull me out, even after this incident. I don't need to be taught by a woman who once tried to have me kidnapped."

"Dick, I swear, this kid makes literally no sense, and I'm blaming you."

"I make perfect sense, Todd!"

"Yeah, and what about the other kids? There are plenty of other rich little students at your school – maybe not Wayne-rich, but rich enough. Why wouldn't they try to take one of them instead? Especially if they couldn't get you in the locker room? Wouldn't it make more sense for them to just grab some random kid, and make the best of it?"

Damian cursed inwardly.

( _I hadn't thought of that. A civilian could have been taken because I moved too quickly. I need to think these things through more fully_.)

On the outside, he simply snorted. "I don't understand the minds of plebeian criminals, Todd; I'm not you."

Todd rolled his eyes and turned back around in his seat.

"Little D… Why did you think the best plan was to get him alone? You know saying something like that would probably only make a kidnapper angry."

"I trusted that I could fight him if the need arose."

"But fighting him would have tipped him off to your identity, don't you think?"

Damian blinked. He hadn't thought of that.

( _That place is lowering my intelligence_.)

He swallowed. "I admit… that was… impulsive, on my part. I was only thinking of immediately neutralizing him."

"Oh, so he admits it to you," Todd muttered exasperatedly.

Grayson sighed. "Just think things through next time, 'kay, Dami? I don't want you getting hurt or risking your identity, all right?"

"Yes, Grayson."

"I swear this is just-"

"Jason?"

"Yeah, Dick?"

"Shut up, please."

* * *

"I want to laugh, but this is just so-"

"I know, right?" Jason agreed. "I couldn't laugh in the car because it's just so ridiculous. And he was so serious about it, it was sort of sad."

"Well, look on the bright side," Tim proposed.

"You can see a bright side?" Dick asked wearily.

"At least he never got changed. Can you imagine if he'd been in his gym clothes and everyone saw his scars?"

Dick blinked and groaned. "So the options for today were either getting calls suspecting us of abuse, or Damian threatening his teachers and getting suspended for it?"

"This is Demonbrat," Tim retorted. "Those were literally the best case options for today."

Dick buried his face in his hands.

"Actually, Babybird's right about that. We should probably get him some long sleeved shirts and some pants to work out in gym."

"That would be good," Cass said. "I'll talk to Steph."

"Thanks, Cass," Dick said, smiling at her softly. "Hey, do you know if he talked to B yet?"

"Oh, he did," Tim said.

"Shouting?"

"A little," Cass said.

Dick rubbed his eyes. "I need to go talk to him."

"Which one?" Jason snorted.

"The one who probably wants to cry, but won't because he's trying not to be 10-years old."

"Cass, you want to take Bruce, or should I?" Tim asked.

Cass slipped off in the direction of Bruce's office.

( _It's probably best in this situation_.)

"Will you get Alfie to make some cookies or something? Comfort food, I don't know," Dick muttered, getting up from his seat and heading to Damian's room, not waiting for an answer.

* * *

Damian's door was closed.

Dick leaned his head against the door, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He knocked on the door lightly.

"Damian? Can I come in? Please?"

No answer.

"Damia-"

The door was tugged open sharply, making Dick take a step back to avoid losing his balance.

Dick examined his baby brother closely. No tears, but it looked like a close thing, judging from his posture and expression – the set of his jaw, his clenched fists, the tension in his back.

The fact that he wouldn't look Dick in the eyes.

"Oh, Dami…"

"What do you want, Grayson? I don't need your pity, if that's what you're here for."

( _Bruce, you probably could have handled this better. Honestly, what did you say?_ )

"That's not what I'm here for."

Damian looked up at him, glaring – that defense mechanism of his. "Then what? You want to know what he said? That I was wrong, and I didn't think it through, and I reacted too quickly, and I should have done better, and that he's disappointed in me. I know all that! I already know! So just-"

Enveloping Damian in a hug was the only thing he could have done, so he did it.

Damian didn't fight him, just stood there, letting him hold him.

"I know I didn't think it through, but I thought they were kidnappers," Damian murmured.

"I know."

"I didn't mean to disappoint him."

"I know, Little D. I know."

* * *

("Tell him you're sorry."

"Ca-"

"Tell him.")

Bruce knocked hesitantly on his youngest son's door. He knew he had been harsh earlier; he just hadn't expected to come back home and find that Damian had been suspended from school at the end of his first week.

He had overreacted; he knew that.

But pride was a Wayne thing, and this was going to be difficult.

It was Dick who opened the door, which was what he'd been hoping to avoid really. Dick could be difficult to persuade.

Now was going to be one of those times.

Dick crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow, closing the door behind him.

( _Right. That's not a good sign_.)

"Dick-"

"You're disappointed in him, Bruce? Really?"

Bruce didn't cringe. Outwardly.

"Dick-"

"Do you really think that's what he needed to hear? He's sorry. He wasn't even going to fight the two weeks off patrol! He was just trying to avoid a disaster and you know how he is and how he thinks! And that's what you said to him?"

"Dick-"

"Do you know what saying something like that does to him? All he really wants to do is make you proud of him! You know that."

"Dick-"

"And-"

"Dick! I know."

Dick snapped his mouth shut and stared at him curiously.

"You're going to apologize?"

"Yes."

"One week off patrol? Not two?"

"…Yes."

Dick paused. "All right, B. Just… he's 10."

And Bruce knew what Dick was trying to say, so he nodded and walked past Dick, opening the door and going into the room.

Alfred was lying on Titus, and the dog was stretched over Damian's legs, but his son didn't seem to mind.

He did seem to mind Bruce's presence, however, stiffening without even looking up.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I've decided only one week off of patrol."

He could practically hear Dick: "That's not an apology, Bruce. Don't make me regret letting you in."

"I'm…"

"It's fine," Damian said shortly, still not looking at him.

"No, Damian," Bruce said, sitting on his son's bed. "It's not. I didn't expect the suspension, and even after Dick told me about it, I still overreacted. I shouldn't have."

Damian looked at him, eye cautiously hopeful, though he was doing his best to hide it. His chin was tilted, his shoulders put back – it was his equivalent of being curled in on himself.

( _He's never more transparent than when he's trying to hide something_.)

"I'm sorry, Damian."

He looked down, but Bruce caught the smile on his face. "Thank you, Father. And… I apologize as well. You were right; I overreacted at school."

"You were doing what you thought was right."

"Next time, I'll think it through."

There was a pause before Bruce reached out tentatively and put an arm around Damian's shoulder. Damian leaned into his embrace, just as tentative.

"That's so cute!"

Damian turned red, tearing out of Bruce's grasp to glare at Dick.

"Grayson!"

"I'm sending this picture to everyone. Because it's adorable and no one has really lived until they've seen this picture."

"Grayson…" Damian growled.

Dick smirked. "Tell you what, Little D, I'll keep the picture to myself if you can get Jason to stop smoking for the rest of the day."

"Don't underestimate me, Grayson!" Damian snarled, stomping past his older brother and out into the hallway. "TODD! You had better keep your word, Grayson, or I'll steal your phone and destroy it! TODD!"

Dick laughed and leaned against the door frame, looking at Bruce. "Well done, B."

"Thanks," he muttered, only partly sarcastic.

Dick just grinned.


	4. Peer Pressure

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, underage smoking. And bad metaphors…?

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like deal with peer pressure and the resulting consequences.

 **Note:** A nod to PDI who reviewed and helped me cover up that plot-hole regarding Damian actually participating in P.E. Thanks!

* * *

Damian was not pleased.

It was the first Friday after his suspension, and he'd expected to go into gym class, apologize to Carmichael – as Father, Grayson, and Pennyworth had urged him to do – and then participate in the lesson.

His apology had been accepted, if a bit warily, but he had been forbidden from participating.

("Thank you for the apology, but… you're not allowed to take part in P.E., Damian."

"What nonsense are you spouting now, Carmichael?"

"… There's a note from your doctor. You have… severe exercise induced asthma. You won't be taking part in class for the whole year.)

Damian snorted thinking about it.

( _Even Carmichael had sounded disbelieving – likely taking note of my physical fitness.)_

He had called his father right after gym – where he had been forced to sit and watch his incapable contemporaries try and fail to run laps – and been told that it was a precaution that they'd forgotten to take the first week.

He understood that if he took part in the class he would likely reveal his exceptional abilities. And that that needed to be avoided.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

He wondered who had been behind that excuse though. It could easily have been Drake and Todd trying to humiliate him, or it could have been Grayson, naively thinking that it was actually a good idea.

( _Whatever._ )

Damian scowled as he walked out of the cafeteria. He didn't feel like eating in there; he'd just stand outside.

( _Of course_. _I can't escape them anywhere_.)

Instead of the solitude he'd been anticipating, there were a number of students gathered in a circle right outside the door. His scowl deepened automatically.

They were smoking. How was he supposed to eat if they were smoking?

Also, they were breaking the law. Was he supposed to let that go? Even if he wasn't in uniform, he was still Robin; could he afford to allow them to get away with this? Would it make him equally as guilty?

He was tempted to confront them, but Grayson had explicitly stated that he was supposed to avoid any trouble.

He was fairly sure this constituted as trouble.

The choice, however, was taken out of his hands.

"Hey," one of the said, catching sight of him and stepping forward. "Do you want one?"

They turned to face him, and the one who spoke held out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Damian sneered.

"No. Not only is it illegal, it's disgusting."

They shifted slightly, obviously uncomfortable. But, for some reason, their leader refused to give up.

"Come on, it's cool."

"You sound like Todd, though not even he is so crass as to try and convince a minor to smoke," Damian replied, frowning.

"Who's Todd?

"My _brother_ ," Damian sneered. "That's not the point. If you continue to attempt to pressure me into joining you in this-"

"Brother?"

Damian gritted his teeth; he hated being interrupted. "Yes. As I was-"

"But, I thought you only had two brothers: Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake."

Damian blinked. Once, then twice.

He cursed under his breath.

( _I need to distract them_.)

Damian shot his hand out and flicked the cigarette from the lips of the boy in front of him. He grabbed the lighter and the box of cigarettes, holding them up to draw attention. Anything to stop them from remembering that he had mentioned having a brother who didn't exist anymore.

Damian sneered at them, tilting his chin upwards. "You're all pathetic. Disgraceful." Damian altered his voice. "'Come on, it's cool'. You all-"

"What is going on out here?"

Damian turned around and stifled another curse.

Teachers had the worst timing.

* * *

Damian crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, staring at the Headmistress.

"Damian, I'm told that you were trying to pressure your peers into smoking."

He glared. "Who said that?"

She let out a sigh. "Mrs. Peters, the teacher who caught you. Also, your fellow students, who said that you told them you and your brother Todd smoked so they should try it too."

Damian snarled silently, earning a raised eyebrow, which he ignored.

( _Nothing goes my way_.)

"Do you have anything to say?"

"They're lying; they attempted to coerce me into smoking. I declined. The only reason I was holding the lighter and cigarettes was to mock them!"

She looked at him, unimpressed. "I've called your father. He's sending your family butler to pick you up. You haven't been suspended, but this is a serious infraction, Damian. Don't do it again."

"I didn't do it to begin with! It was those plebeian i-"

"Please wait in the front office, Damian."

Damian growled and stood up from his chair, stomping out of the office without a backwards glance. He dropped into the chair outside of the Headmistress's office, glaring at the secretary when she looked at him.

He barely refrained from sighing as he pulled out his phone. He scowled as he dialed his brother's number.

"Damian? You're calling me? Why?"

The sigh escaped him against his will. "Todd. I'd rather not be on the phone with you, but there may be a problem."

"A problem? What sort of problem are you calling me for? Why not Dickiebird? Or B?"

"You're still legally dead, correct?"

"…"

"Todd!"

"Yeah, kid. I'm still legally dead," he responded warily. "Why?"

Damian paused.

( _Maybe it won't actually be a problem. Todd himself said that I'm overly paranoid.)_

"Never mind," Damian replied before hanging up.

He put his phone on silent when his brother called him. He wasn't going to worry about it.

* * *

Jason poked his head into Tim's room curiously – and there he was.

( _Don't know why I didn't check here first.)_

"Yo, Timmy."

Tim turned to him, and Jason took a minute to note the delayed reaction time.

"Jay?"

"Okay, we've got to deal with your inability to take care of yourself. But later. Do you know what's up with Babybat?"

Tim blinked, turning back to his work. "Demon? Why don't you ask him?"

Jason shot a look at the back of his head, but Tim seemed to feel it.

"Right. It's Demon. Uh... well, he got sent home today for trying to pressure other students into smoking."

Jason scoffed. "Smoking? Damian?"

"Yeah. He hasn't mentioned why he felt the need to flick a cigarette out of another student's mouth and steal the pack of cigarettes and lighter, but at least we know he's not actually at fault this time. Mostly."

"Right… So… no idea why he called me and asked if I was still considered legally dead?"

Tim turned back to him, gaping in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was weird, and then he just hung up and didn't answer any of my calls. Slipped into the Cave to train when I tried to ask him."

"… No. No idea. Did you ask Dick?"

"Yeah, he's got no idea either."

"And you thought I would?"

"Hey! He called me today; if he's going to do out of character things…"

Tim nodded and then shook his head. "No clue. But, whatever it is, I bet it's going to end up being a disaster."

"That's pretty much a given, Babybird."

"It's probably going to be hilarious, though."

Jason snorted and grinned. "Putting him in school was literally the best idea B has ever had."

"Oh, absolutely."

* * *

Damian scowled as a group of his classmates approached him nervously. Not only did he not want to talk to them, they were drawing out the process with their inability to face him.

( _Cowards._ )

"What?" he spat.

They flinched slightly, before one of them stepped forward.

"Pendleton," Damian greeted coolly.

"Damian. We just… wanted to know if it was true."

"If what was true?"

"If you really have another brother."

Damian stared at him blankly.

( _Paranoia. Right. I'm never listening to Todd again. …I probably should have warned Father_.)

"Where did you hear that ridiculous rumor?"

"Um… Well, Kyle said that when you tried to convince him to smoke-"

"That never happened," Damian snarled, narrowing his eyes and causing Pendleton to step back.

"R-right. But- he just- he said that you said that you had another brother named Todd- probably his last name, right? But you don't have another brother, but a few people talked to their parents after Kyle mentioned it and they said that your dad used to have another son named Jason Todd but that he died before you came so it doesn't make sense that you would talk to him or anything so we were just wondering-"

"Shut up, Pendleton."

The other student complied, but remained where he was, obviously waiting for an answer.

Damian cursed mentally in every language he knew. Why were things like this always happening to him? He wondered if he were cursed…

No, he couldn't be. They hadn't run into any magicians in ages.

"This Kyle-character is making up lies about me. It's not surprising, considering he lied about the cigarettes."

"But how would he even know about Jason unless you mentioned him?"

Damian gritted his teeth. "How should I know? Perhaps he stalks my family and was so interested in us that he dug into our history and used it thinking it would make his lie seem more realistic. I don't know what goes through the minds of idiots, Pendleton. Are you done?"

Damian stared him down until he received a nod.

( _Good. Crisis averted_.)

* * *

Dick nearly spat out his coffee when he saw the news; it was only years of training and the desire to avoid Alfred's reprimand that forced him to swallow the scalding liquid.

He coughed, taking a breath after he had regained his bearings. Then he rewound the channel and paused.

"Jay! Bruce! Alfie! Tim! Cass! Come down here; you need to see this! It's an emergency!"

They all entered into the kitchen slowly, not seeming to heed his words.

( _Seriously, I'm not that dramatic_.)

Jason entered last, making Dick roll his eyes.

"Thank you for the urgency," he drawled. "Especially since it involves you."

"Me? What about me?"

Dick pushed play on the television.

" _And, in other news, is one of Gotham's Wealthiest back from the dead? Jason Todd, the second adopted son of Bruce Wayne, died years ago in a tragic accident. However, anonymous sources have surfaced saying that he is, in fact, alive. Many people are wondering if perhaps Jason Todd was never dead to begin with. Did he fake his death? Or is this all unfounded speculation? As you know, Mr. Wayne and his family are exceptional at avoiding paparazzi, and we have been unable to formally reach Mr. Wayne for comment. But we won't give up on getting to the bottom of this; we'll keep you updated. Now, back to you Jeff_."

Dick put television on mute and turned to his family. Their reactions were pretty much what he had expected.

Alfred looked mildly surprised, which was the utmost shock on his face. Cass's mouth was hanging open slightly, her eyes widened. Bruce and Tim were gaping silently at the television. Jason was-

Jason was pulling out his cellphone and furiously pressing buttons.

( _Okay. I didn't expect that. Who's he calling?_ )

"How in the world did they get a hold of this?" Bruce rumbled.

"Have you talked to your secretary?" Tim asked.

"Not about this; I never have her pass on messages from the news station unless I specifically ask. But I wasn't anticipating this."

"Come on, answer, you brat!"

Everyone turned to Jason, who was glaring into space as he waited for his call to go through.

"Jay?" Dick asked curiously.

"Wait," Tim said, choking on nothing. "You don't think-"

"What else could it be?" Jason drawled before hanging up his phone with a growl and dialing again.

"What is it?" Cass asked, looking between them.

"Damian," they said simultaneously.

And that was all it took really. No one else knew exactly what it was they were referring to, but it wasn't hard to guess that something had happened with Damian at school that had led to this.

"How does this stuff even happen to him?" Dick asked, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly.

"Karma," Jason muttered.

"Doesn't that mean you did something to deserve this too?" Tim questioned wryly.

"What did Damian do?"

Jason turned to Bruce, hanging up his phone again. "The little brat called me last Friday and asked if I was still legally dead before hanging up the phone on me and refusing to answer any other questions about it – even when he came home. I let it drop because I figured nothing could actually happen-"

"I told you this was going to be a disaster. I told you – didn't you agree?"

"Oh, come on, Timmy. A disaster is Damian deciding he wants to break into the police records and change the cause of my death to something humiliating. This? This is…"

"Yeah," Tim muttered. "This is something else. I don't think I'll ever understand how he manages to outdo himself every time."

Bruce let out a heavy sigh. "Damian…"

"Come now, you're all treating this as though it were the end of the world," Alfred said calmly.

"Isn't it?" Dick asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

He had officially given up on hoping that they could go two full weeks without some sort of incident.

"Hardly," Alfred replied. "This may be a blessing in disguise."

"How so?" Bruce inquired, turning to Alfred.

"Perhaps, letting the world think Master Jason simply faked his death may be good for him. It would certainly allow for more freedom," Alfred proposed as he left the room, going back to his dusting.

Everyone stared after him, in shock.

( _Why didn't I think of that?)_

"That's a good idea," Cass said, nodding in agreement and following Alfred out of the room.

"How are they so calm about this?" Tim grumbled. "That's a terrible idea."

"Maybe not!" Dick said, grinning. "Think about it, you guys. Jason doesn't have to hide anymore, and he can get all of the benefits of being an actual, living citizen."

"What, like having to come to Wayne functions, being hounded by the paparazzi, paying taxes?"

"That's too much sarcasm, Babybird. Have you had your coffee this morning?"

"Not enough."

"Whoa, woah, woah! You're not seriously considering giving the media a statement saying that I faked my death and suddenly decided to come back, are you?"

Dick turned to Jason, but his little brother was looking at Bruce, who had been strangely silent for the past few minutes. Dick leaned forward curiously, wondering what Bruce was thinking.

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Well, there's no harm in having _another_ heir, is there?"

"Seriously?" Jason exclaimed, turning to Tim. "For real? You were just talking about what a bad idea this was."

Tim lifted up his newly obtained mug. "I hadn't had my fourth cup of coffee yet. I'm seeing things in a different light now."

Dick stared at Tim. "That is the least healthy thing you've said in… two days. When you mentioned you hadn't slept in 78 hours."

"One day," Jason corrected. "Last night he mentioned that he'd run out of energy drinks to mix with his coffee."

"Oh my gosh, Tim!"

"What?" he muttered defensively. "You act like we're healthy people."

"That's… okay. That's a fair point. But still. Back me up here, Jay."

"Yeah, I have to agree with Dickiebird on this one, Timmy. And you know how much I hate to do that."

Dick frowned at him, but his rebuttal was cut off when Bruce finally spoke.

"What do you think, Jason?"

They all turned to Bruce, who was staring at Jason critically.

"What?"

"Do you want to do this?"

"What, you're going to let _me_ decide?"

"Yes. It's your life. Or, it could be."

Jason gaped; Dick shared a look with Tim.

"Well, son?"

Jason blinked. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure. Why not? I guess. I mean… Demonbrat already put in most of the work. No reason to waste all that effort."

And Dick grinned. Because Jason was only being half-sarcastic. And because this was actually happening. And all it took was Damian going to school.

( _I don't know if we should thank him or give him another lesson on hiding information_.)

"Group hug!"

"I'm late for work, but I'll set up a press conference."

"I have to finish looking through my files."

"No."

* * *

"Damian, come here."

Those were the first words Damian heard when he arrived home, and it did nothing for his mood. He didn't even know what he could have done; he hadn't even been called to the office.

He followed his father in moody silence until they arrived in one of the family rooms where everyone was sitting.

He crossed his arms, scowling. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

"Actually, you did."

"Shut up, Drake!" He glared at the smug smirk on Drake's face. "… What is it this time?"

Grayson snickered.

"What are you laughing about? You were thinking the same thing this morning."

"Yeah, but I can appreciate it when it's not me, Jay. Isn't that how this goes?"

"Damian, what happened when you got sent home on Friday?"

Damian turned to his father, frowning. "I told you."

"Yes. But did you leave out anything? Something about Jason, maybe?"

Damian scowled, shooting a glare at Todd.

( _Of course he couldn't keep his mouth shut._ )

"I may have… mentioned Todd in passing during the confrontation."

"In what context?"

Damian sniffed. "I simply compared them to Todd, seeing as he is the only individual I know that smokes."

His father leaned forward slightly. "Did any of them take note of that?"

He cleared his throat. "Briefly. Which is why I grabbed the cigarettes and lighter – I was trying to distract them."

"Did it work?"

Damian ran his eyes over the rest of them, wondering what was going on. Grayson looked pleased and amused. Drake was exasperated but… also amused. The same with Todd and Cain. Pennyworth wasn't giving anything away; neither was his father – though he didn't seem particularly stern.

What was he missing?

Damian shook his head slowly. "No, unfortunately. But I dealt with the situation."

"Oh?"

"A group of my classmates approached me today, asking about Todd and mentioning that a surprisingly large number of other students had taken the inquiries to their parents. Gossiping idiots," he muttered. "But I told them that there was nothing substantial in regards to the situation, and Pendleton seemed to believe me."

Now his father was smirking slightly.

( _What?_ )

"I know that I was careless, but I thought I handled the situation. I called Todd that day because I had worried, but then I recalled that Todd himself had said I was overly paranoid, so I didn't think it would matter."

Drake snorted. "So, basically, this is your fault."

"No!" Todd exclaimed, grinning. "It's the brat's fault for listening to me. He never does that; how was I supposed to know he would take it to heart?"

"Of course he would, Jaybird! You're his older brother; he even talks about you at school."

Cain hummed in agreement.

"What… is going on?"

His father huffed. "Because you mentioned that, and people are unfailingly nosy, there's a story circulating that perhaps Jason is in fact alive. And he's decided that he'll take advantage of this. We're going to be holding a press conference this weekend, revealing that Jason faked his death, but has finally decided to come back."

Damian gaped. "So… I'm not in trouble."

"No, Damian. In fact, Jason would like to thank you. Though, we'd all appreciate it if you refrained from mentioning any other sensitive information while at school."

He blinked at his father's wry tone, turning to Todd curiously. His brother stood up, walking over to him. Damian took a step back.

"It's fine. It wasn't intentional, so I don't require thanks. I'll take your words into account father, and watch what I say more carefully."

Todd grinned. "Oh, come on, baby brother, don't be like that. I'm grateful."

Damian took another step back, peering around Todd, only to find that the rest of his family was smiling – and laughing in Drake and Grayson's cases.

"Todd, cease your approach at once."

"No can do, Babybat," he said, throwing his arms open. "I think you deserve a hug."

"I'm warning you, Todd! I'm armed!"

"Dami, we talked about this!"

"You said not to get caught, Grayson!"

"I told you that was bad advice."

"Tim. Not helping."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, B!"

Damian leapt backwards as Todd jumped towards him, only just managing to avoid the attack. He pivoted on his heel, preparing to run, but was caught almost immediately.

He shouted in protest. "Let me go, Todd! Cease this indignity at once! I will destroy you before you make it to your press conference!"

Todd only cackled, hitching Damian closer to him with one arm and rubbing his knuckles against the younger's scalp with his other hand.

"Aww!"

"Don't you dare take a picture of this, Grayson!"

"I will take it."

"Cain!"

"This family just gets more and more ridiculous."

"Indeed, Master, Timothy. Have you had lunch today?"

"Uh… I plead the fifth?"

"LET ME GO, TODD!"

"This is your own fault, you brat! Take your hug like a man!"

"Can I hold you to that, Little Wing?"

"Shut up, Dick!"

( _These people are insane_.)

* * *

"Hello everyone, thank you for coming. I know it may come as a shock, but my second son, Jason Todd, thought to have died, is actually alive. He's here, willing to speak with you all; Jason?"

Jason cleared his throat, stepping forward. There was a cacophony of voices, but Jason ignored it, leaning into the microphone.

"Yo," he said, waiting for the noise to die down. "I'm Jason. I faked my death."

Jason ignored the very obvious groans coming from his brothers who were standing off to the side. Moral support, they said. Dick and Tim were probably only here to make fun of him. Damian had been forced.

( _Thank God, for Cass_.)

Not that he was nervous.

"Questions? How about you?"

"Jason, why did you fake your death?"

He blinked. "Good question. Good question. Um… I faked my death because… I had a dream. A vision. I'd discovered my life's purpose."

"Someone make him stop," Tim muttered.

"I wanted to help people. To save them. From themselves, and from other people. To do that, I first had to take a trek to find myself. In the desert."

"Oh my-"

"So I left. It was like chasing a vision of my long dead mother – God rest her soul."

"Is he serious?"

"Shut up, Tim!" Jason shouted. He cleared his throat, turning back to the crowd of reporters. "In the desert, I had a hallucination. There was clown. And a crowbar. And that's when I understood: in order to truly help others, I had to pretend to die. It's like, the clown represented the darkness inside of me, which was preventing me from helping people, so I had to take the crowbar and beat it to death before I could truly fulfill my dream."

Jason was pretty sure he heard a whimper coming from behind him.

"So, I did – or, you know, it beat me to death. Fake death. And then, I called Bruce and had him help me arrange everything, so that I could be free to pursue my dream. I went through a lot of self-discovery. It was as though I had been buried underground and forced to claw my way to the surface from under the dirt. And when I broke through, I still couldn't really see what was going on. But, soon, I received an enlightening, like being dumped in a pit of glowing liquid."

"He's your son, Bruce. He's yours," Dick whispered.

Jason grinned. "After that, I still had to come to terms with how exactly I would reach that dream. See, in order to help others, I decided that I had to become what was hurting them – to understand it. So I faced my demons and embraced them, realizing that it was the only way I could ever truly make the world a better place. Of course, then, I got beat with a crowbar again. Though… the chronology on that might be a bit messed up."

"He's not even using metaphors anymore," Tim hissed.

"There was a lot of violence – metaphysical violence. Wrestling with ideology and guns and replacements and vicious baby assassins – which were the embodiments of my own fear of inadequacy and… fear of sharp objects. Which I needed to get over because how could I help people if I needed to give someone stitches, but was afraid of needles? …Where was I going with this?"

"This press conference was your idea, Bruce," Dick murmured.

"Blame Damian."

"I refuse to be culpable for this."

Jason stifled his laughter and pasted on a serious face; for some reason, the crowd was eating this up.

"Yeah. So, that's the story. I faked my death to… achieve my dreams of helping people. Any questions? Okay, you."

"Why did you have to leave to help people?"

"Bruce wasn't supportive. He was trying to hold me back; you know? 'No, Jason, you can't chase your long dead mother's ghost – God rest her soul – into the desert. You can't help people. Or mess with clowns.' So, I just couldn't let him keep me down, you know?"

"Jason, stop."

"How about you next?"

"Why didn't you just run away? Why did you call him and have him help you fake your death? How did you convince him?"

"I couldn't be a coward; you know? I couldn't just run. Uh… I um… told him that I'd never forgive him if he didn't help me. He was already holding me back so much, that, I guess, the guilt was too much. He realized that he had to help me do this at least, if he wouldn't support me. You?"

"What made you decide to come back?"

"…Family? Yep. Family. Uh… I heard I had two little brothers, so I couldn't just ignore them. It was all well and good to help others, but if I didn't help my own non-flesh and blood, then what sort of person was I? I already failed my long dead mother – God rest her soul – so I couldn't fail them. And being with them showed me that I need to come back into the public because… it's like peer pressure. Sometimes, you just have to give in to people who are trying to force you to do things you don't want to do. Like smoking. Because if you give in there, then maybe it won't escalate and reveal all of your secrets. Or you deal with it right there. But effectively."

( _Demonbrat is going to stab me._ )

"I'm going to kill him."

"I will actually help you."

"What is he even saying?"

"Anyone else? How about you in the middle?"

"Did you ever actually help anyone?"

"…Yeah. I helped a lot of people. It was like… I helped them, but they never knew. Because they looked at me and saw a mask – and they painted me like I was a criminal for some reason – like a drug lord, or something. And a lot of people didn't really appreciate how insistent I was when it came to helping people. But I did it anyway. And, you know, no kids were ever hurt, so that's a win."

"Can you disown him, Father?"

"So there you have it. That's my story. Thank you all for coming. No further questions."

Jason waved casually to the clamoring crowd before turning and walking off the stage, letting Bruce wrap things up with the reporters. His siblings followed him, and he did his best not to grin.

( _Who am I kidding, this is hilarious!)_

"So…I think that went well."

"It was very symbolic," Cass commented.

Jason snorted. His sister was the best.

"No, that's going to blow up in our faces. And then I'm going to have to work with Babs and try and suppress the media and rumors that you were really in a mental health institution the whole time – because that is the only logical conclusion anyone could draw from your ramblings. Actually, I'm surprised you didn't mention Arkham."

"Oh, can I go back up there real quick?"

"I need a vacation," Tim muttered.

"Can I join you?" Dick asked, not even looking at Jason.

His youngest brother glared, but that wasn't anything new. "That was terrible, Todd. In fact, it somehow managed to be worse than what I was expecting."

"Glad I could exceed your expectations, Babybat. Thanks again."

"Tt."


	5. Bully

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Allusions to racial slurs as well as insults to parentage. Mild angst…

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown (mentioned), Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like deal with a bully.

 **Note:** Because this had to be covered at least once; it's like a requisite for the fandom. Sorry for the lack of lightheartedness. I hope the end makes up for it.

* * *

Tim regretted answering the call shortly after he picked it up.

"Hey, Dick."

"Hey, Timmy."

Dread ran through him almost immediately. He didn't like that tone.

"What happened?"

"Uh... Damian's school called. Again."

Tim groaned, torn between exasperation and amusement.

 _(How does Demon manage?)_

"Right. What did he do now?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and taking a moment to wonder why Dick had called _him_ about it.

"He was called to the office for bullying."

Tim snorted. "Better than threatening to gouge out a teacher's eyes."

Dick sighed. "Yeah. Anyway, I got the call, so B doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. So... would you pick him up for me?"

"What?! Dick-"

"Please, Tim! You're already out and I don't want to draw any attention to the situation by leaving! Just... keep him with you until his school lets out. Please?"

"I- no! Just because I'm not in school doesn't mean I'm not busy. I have work!"

"You can take off," Dick pointed out.

( _I could, but that doesn't mean I want to_.)

"I am not spending 3 hours with him, Dick. Someone would end up dead."

"Come on, Tim! Consider it punishment for him since he shouldn't have attacked anyone in the first place."

"Really? That's what you're going with? Better punishment would be letting B know."

"Babybird, please? I'm going to talk to Damian about it when he gets home. I just-"

"Yeah, I know."

And he did. Damian was Dick's baby, which was ridiculous on a number of levels, but undeniably true. Tim had worked past his anger about it a while ago, but it didn't make it any less annoying when Dick did things like this to shield the Demon. He understood – in theory – but it was still annoying. Especially when his older brother dragged him into it.

"So, will you do it?"

Tim sighed heavily. "Fine. But you owe me."

"Thanks, Babybird! I'll make it up to you! And remember, don't bring him back until-"

"School lets out. Yeah, I know."

Tim hung up the car phone and groaned.

( _This is going to be a disaster._ )

* * *

Tim sent a carefully crafted smile to the secretary as he walked into the office, ignoring the way Damian's eyes widened and then narrowed when he saw him.

( _The feeling's mutual_.)

"Hello, Ms. Reynolds. I'm Timothy Drake-Wayne. I'm Damian's older brother. Bruce couldn't come, so I'm here to pick him up."

She pursed her lips. "Mr. Wayne should be here; the Headmistress wanted to hold a meeting."

Tim followed her gaze to the chairs and noticed for the first time that another student and his mother were in the room.

( _Dick, what did you get me in to?)_

"That's fine. I can stand in for him, right?"

Tim wasn't asking.

She blinked. "Um, well-"

"I don't think it should be a problem. I could call Bruce, but I'd hate to interrupt his work."

"Right, no- that's fine. I'll tell the Headmistress that you're here. She's making a call, but she'll be done soon."

Tim gave another fake smile. Dick _so_ owed him.

He walked over to Damian, taking the seat next to him to keep up appearances; he'd rather be across the room. Or across the country.

"So," Tim whispered, "you want to tell me why you were bullying your classmate?"

Damian's answering snarl was predictable. "Why are you here, Drake?"

"Because Dick doesn't want Bruce to know how much trouble you're in. I swear it's like you're asking for another suspension."

Damian glared, absolutely mutinous, but there was something else in his expression that made Tim pause. He wasn't sure what it was - not necessarily defensive but...

"What happened?" Tim asked, genuinely curious.

"Does it matter? I was bullying someone; it's irrelevant to you, isn't it?"

His tone was venomous, but his wording was throwing Tim off.

( _I'm definitely missing something.)_

Tim frowned slightly. If he really thought about it, Damian bullying someone was nearly as difficult to imagine as him trying to get someone to smoke. The Demon was a brat, and he was condescending, and he had a tendency to spew out threats indiscriminately, but he took his role as Robin seriously. And that meant, no matter how much he detested his classmates, he'd never attack any of them without provocation.

Even if his definition of provocation was different from everyone else's.

"What happened, Damian?"

Damian looked at him sharply before facing forward. He set his jaw and lifted his chin.

"He was being an idiot. I dealt with it."

Tim's brow furrowed and he took a breath. Okay, time for a leap of faith. He was probably going to regret this.

"If you don't tell me what happened, I can't help you, Damian."

Tim took pleasure in the way Damian gaped at him. It was difficult for Tim to even offer to help. And for Tim to imply that he trusted Damian wasn't at fault. But it was worth it just to see his face.

And there wasn't a twinge of hurt at his little brother's disbelief. Not even a little bit. Really.

Damian swallowed and turned away. "It was nothing. They were just saying stupid stuff."

"Like what?"

Damian shot a look at him, and Tim wondered why it was harder to get information from him than a villain.

"It doesn't matter."

 _(He's so difficult.)_

Tim sighed. "Well, what did you do? To have them bring you into the office for bullying?"

Damian sniffed. "I retaliated. That's all."

Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Damian, I need the full story if I'm going to keep you from getting suspended. I have to know what I'm dealing with."

He sounded like a defense lawyer. Dick was going to be in his debt for the rest of his life.

Damian avoided his gaze, but then his shoulders dropped and he sighed, and Tim figured that was capitulation.

"We were being led to the cafeteria and that idiot was making derogatory comments about my heritage."

Tim frowned.

"I ignored him, of course. His prejudice simply shows how ignorant he is."

"Then what happened?"

Damian shifted, and that look was back on his face. "He realized he wasn't getting a reaction from me and decided to move on to questioning my parentage and whether or not you all wanted me."

Damian snapped his jaw shut, and Tim finally placed the look.

Insecurity.

Tim closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to calm down. Because he was angry.

It was true, he couldn't stand Damian. And yes, Damian had tried to kill him and had insinuated that none of them belonged in the family because they weren't blood.

But Damian was theirs. And no one was allowed to tell him that they didn't want him.

 _(Especially when he already worries about it himself. Not that the stupid kid would know that, but still.)_

Tim exhaled softly and nodded. "Right," he said, keeping his tone even. "And what did you do?"

Damian scowled and looked away. "I told him to shut up but he refused. So I forced Davidson to the ground, held a knife to his throat, and threatened to slice his skin off in sections if he didn't shut up. Then Andrews intervened."

Tim laughed sharply, grim vindication rushing through him. "A knife? Didn't Dick start checking your pockets again?"

Damian looked at him cautiously. "Brown helped me sew a pocket inside my blazer," he admitted grudgingly.

 _(I'll have to take Steph out for waffles or something_.)

"Did anyone else see the knife?"

"I hid it when I noticed Andrews approaching."

"Right. Well-"

The Headmistress opened her door, interrupting him before he could finish.

"If you'll all follow me, then we can get started."

( _Here we go.)_

He was going to make Dick start repaying his debt by demanding a life time supply of coffee and energy drinks.

* * *

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into the Headmistress's office.

( _What's Drake playing at?_ )

He wasn't sure why Grayson had felt the need to send Drake of all people- Damian would have preferred Cain, or even Todd.

But Drake had been surprisingly willing to listen to him, which was more than he had expected. He wasn't sure what telling Drake the story would do, seeing as the Headmistress was unlikely to hear him out, but it made him feel slightly better that Drake had believed him.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

They all took their seats, and Damian scowled at his older brother when he forced him to take the chair farthest to the right. Drake ignored him and sat down next to him.

"I was hoping Damian's father would be here."

Drake smiled – obviously fake, and surprisingly strained. "Bruce was in the middle of an important meeting; he couldn't make it. I'm more than capable of filling in, Mrs. Kensington. Timothy Drake."

"Of course. Thank you for coming, Mr. Drake. Should we start? Henry – and a number of witnesses – say that Damian tackled Henry to the ground. Henry also says that Damian pulled a knife on him."

Damian crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"I demand he be expelled!" Davidson's mother cried, leaning forward. "He pulled a knife on my son and threatened him for no reason! He's dangerous and unstable; he shouldn't be allowed in school."

Damian rolled his eyes. He didn't want to be in school himself… but he didn't want to get kicked out. Father and Grayson especially would be disappointed in him.

"Mrs. Davidson, I understand your concerns, but it's necessary to hear Damian's side of the story before I make any decisions."

"Thank you," Drake replied, sounding oddly stiff.

Damian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. His posture was tense and his eyes were slightly narrowed; he looked… Damian wasn't sure. But Drake was normally better at putting on his public face than this.

( _What's wrong with him?)_

"First, I think we should establish that Damian doesn't have a knife on him to have attacked anyone with. I'd appreciate it if that accusation was retracted."

"Henry wouldn't lie-"

"Are you sure, Mrs. Davidson? Because I talked to Damian myself. And Damian wouldn't lie either."

Damian kept his face blank, but was grudgingly impressed. Drake had obviously recovered, and was showing his skill as an actor: Drake sounded genuinely angry on his behalf.

There was a tense silence.

"Perhaps," Kensington began, "it's possible Henry was telling the truth. After all, there was a report saying Damian brought a knife to school during the first week."

"And he agreed to never do it again. Would you like to see if he has another ankle holster? He wouldn't mind turning out his pockets either, if that's what it takes for you to realize that Damian didn't threaten his fellow student with a weapon."

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

( _That woman is annoying_. _Davidson obviously takes after her_.)

"Damian?" Drake prompted.

He scowled, but stood up, turning out the pockets of his blazer and his pants. He pulled up both pant legs for good measure, showing a lack of ankle holsters. The he sat back down crossing his arms and trying not to smirk; he'd have to remember to thank Brown for her help later.

"So, now that we've established Damian didn't threaten _Henry_ with a knife, I think we can move on to addressing the real situation: Henry is claiming that my little brother attacked him without warrant. Seeing as he's already lied once, it's not hard to believe that he might be lying about that, is it?"

Damian was hard pressed not to gape. He didn't, of course; he wasn't some undignified peasant. Still, Drake was continually surprising him today, especially with how vehemently he was defending him.

( _Even though he knows about the knife… How annoying._ )

Damian didn't like being confused. It was even worse when Drake was the one confusing him.

He was probably just doing it because Grayson asked him to. That made sense.

"What? No! Henry's not lying; I don't know what your little brat of a brother did with it, but he had a knife to my son's throat!"

"Mrs. Davidson, please!" Kensington reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, did you just call my brother a brat? I assumed that you were a rational and mature adult, Mrs. Davidson; I'm disappointed that you proved me wrong. Regardless of your childishness, I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from calling my _10-year old_ brother names."

Davidson, his mother, and Kensington were all staring at Drake in shock, which didn't really surprise Damian. Drake had sounded colder than his civilian persona normally allowed, and – even if it were Drake of all people – he had still been trained by his father. He knew how to intimidate others.

Still, he was laying it on a bit thick; all they really needed was for Damian to avoid being suspended.

Damian subtly jabbed Drake in the side, earning a slightly disgruntled, but entirely confused look. Damian rolled his eyes.

"Well," Kensington began. "I think we should all calm down. What did Damian say happened?"

"That Henry was making racist remarks and insinuating that Damian didn't belong in our family."

"My son would never-"

Drake cut her off. "I'm aware that Damian shouldn't have resorted to violence, but I expect that you understand his reaction, Mrs. Kensington. I'd rather finish this meeting sooner rather than later, so why don't we agree that neither boy will be punished for their actions by the school and leave discipline to their families on this issue?"

"What? Henry didn't do anything; that- I mean, your brother should be expelled!"

"And it's my opinion that your son should be expelled, but unless you'd rather they both get kicked out of school, I think my solution settles things." Drake turned to Kensington. "Damian can't prove that Henry said those things, and Henry can't prove he didn't. It's true, Damian attacked him, but if Henry did say those things, then I think we can all agree that the attack wasn't completely unwarranted."

Drake was staring Kensington down and completely ignoring the protests from Davidson's mother. Kensington coughed slightly and nodded.

"Of course, that… seems fair?"

Kensington didn't actually seem sure, but she seemed to have enough sense to know that arguing with Drake on this issue wouldn't actually get her anywhere. And she had apparently come to the decision that upsetting a Davidson was better than upsetting a Wayne.

"Excellent," Drake said, standing up. "Then I'll take Damian home and we'll deal with this. It won't happen again. Thank you, Mrs. Kensington. Mrs. Davidson. Let's go, Damian."

Damian stood, following Drake out of the office without looking back. He stared at his brother's back, frowning. He sped up, walking next to him.

"What was that about?"

Drake cocked an eyebrow at him. "That was me getting you out of another suspension. A thank you would be nice," he drawled.

Damian scowled and crossed his arms. "Thank you, Drake."

"Wh- Um… you're welcome. It wasn't that big a deal. You were actually in the right on that."

Damian shot him a dubious look.

"Okay. Well, the knife might have been a bit much in school, and you probably shouldn't have tackled him. At least, not in public. But no one in the family would actually be upset with you about it – not after knowing the full story."

"Tt. I doubt it."

Drake paused when they stepped outside. He looked down at him, and Damian matched his gaze.

( _What now?_ )

"Damian…" Drake trailed off before shaking his head. "That woman was pretty annoying."

Damian scowled, but decided he didn't feel like calling Drake on the subject change. "Much like her son."

"You know, there are better ways to get back at people than just attacking them then and there. I'm surprised Dick hasn't taken more time to talk to you about it; I'll have to pick up the slack, I guess."

Damian's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about, Drake?"

Drake smirked. "I'm not supposed to take you back to the Manor until school lets out, so why don't we stop by W.E.? I'm pretty sure we have a contract with the Davidson's company."

Damian blinked up at him. "Are you-"

"We. And I'm pretty sure we can get away with it if we tell B we're using this as an opportunity to bond."

Damian smirked back at him. "Hmm… that seems sensible, Drake. Perhaps you can also take the opportunity to teach me more about hacking; the Academy is a good starting point, don't you think?"

"I'm no Barbara, but that's an excellent idea. Let's get going."

"I'll drive."

"You're not driving my car."

"Tt."

* * *

"So, what's up with you, Babybat?"

Damian glared at him, but Jason ignored it, smashing his elbow into the nearest thug's nose and dodging a punch aimed at his jaw.

Was it a good idea to have this conversation in the middle of patrol?

Probably not, but Jason was curious, and these guys were insignificant enough that neither he nor Damian actually had to focus to take them down.

( _Never mind B would lecture me for not paying enough attention._ )

"What are you talking about, To- Hood?"

Jason let out a low whistle as Damian knocked his opponent unconscious. "Nice kick, Robin. And I'm talking about your weirdly sulky attitude after you and Red Robin got back home. Did you lose a fight with him or something?"

"As if."

Jason snorted. "Look at you; you already sound like a teenager. From a few decades ago, but still."

A batarang whizzed past his head, and Jason grinned, though his little brother couldn't see it. "Thanks, Babybat."

"Pay attention and stop gossiping, Hood."

"So there's something to gossip about- Hey!" Jason shot a thug aiming at Damian. Three times. "I miss real bullets sometimes."

Damian smirked at him, but didn't comment, sweeping his foe off of his feet.

"For real, what happened?"

"Tt. Nosy." But Damian sighed, even as he disarmed a man 3 times his size. "We went to the company and ended a few deals that we didn't really need in the first place. And then he taught me more about hacking."

"Right… so what's the sulking about? Mad he was capable of teaching you something?"

Damian ran towards him, vaulting over his shoulder and kneeing a thug in the face. Jason shot someone in the shoulder – not satisfying at all.

"Your training with Nightwing has been going too well."

"I'm just confused," Damian admitted, surprising Jason.

He hadn't actually thought he would admit anything.

"About what?"

"D- Red Robin was… uncommonly… Stay down! He was surprisingly willing to hear me out – and to assist me further throughout the day."

"What's surprising? Yeah, you guys fight, but you're brothers. It's not like you'd just abandon him if he needed you."

Damian paused, staring at him like he couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Jason shot the man approaching his little brother from behind.

Headshot.

Boring.

"What are you so shocked about?"

"I- nothing."

And then Damian jumped back into the fight with a ferocity that typically meant he was uncomfortable with something and didn't feel like dealing with it.

( _He is so Bruce's son_.)

He buried the rush of sympathy and anger as he thought about why Damian was so shocked at the idea of Tim caring enough to help him.

He gritted his teeth and barely blinked when he dislocated someone's arm.

Brothers were more trouble than they were worth.

( _I'll have to tell Dickiebird to give the Babybat a hug when we get back._ )

* * *

Dick eyed Tim curiously. "So…"

"Just ask, Dick," he muttered, not turning from the Bat-computer.

"You didn't tell me what happened at the meeting. You just said that it wasn't Damian's fault and left it at that."

Tim sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I'm typing up a report; do we have to talk about this now?"

"Well, I think it's a good idea. Because, apparently, today wasn't Damian's fault. But when we finished patrol, Jay told me that I needed to give Damian a hug. And Damian was acting weird and locked himself in his room, so I didn't even get a chance. And earlier, when you got home with him, you seemed okay, but then you got all contemplative and sort of down. Tell me what's going on, Timmy. What happened today?"

Tim let out another sigh and turned to look at him. "A budding racist was insulting Damian, but Damian ignored it until the kid started saying something about Damian not really being wanted in the family."

( _Oh, Dami...)_

"No…"

"I know. I may have been a bit more forceful than necessary when I was making sure Damian didn't get suspended. And then I took the two of us to W.E. and we may have terminated the deal we had with their company because the mother was nearly as big a jerk as her son. And we also may have hacked into the Academy and ruined the kid's grades."

Dick suppressed a grin. He shouldn't be so pleased with that, but he was a Bat, and he was vindictive and protective, and he was very comfortable blaming Bruce for all of it.

"We actually had fun together and were completely civil. He even laughed a little."

Dick's face softened. "That's nice to hear."

Tim gave a wry grin. "Yeah, just… when we got back… it's like he remembered what the kid said and sort of went on the defensive. Because, well… you know how he feels better than anyone."

And Dick did. Because his baby brother was the most mature ten-year old ever. But he was 10 years old and as confident as he was, he was desperately insecure when it came to his place in the family. He wished he wasn't. He wished he knew how much they all loved him – even Tim.

Dick huffed, crossing his arms. "Well, we'll just have to remind him that other people don't know anything about our family!"

Tim rose an eyebrow, running a hand through his hair. "Meaning?"

Dick grinned. "It's a surprise. Just leave it to me!"

"That… makes me sort of nervous."

* * *

"Pennyworth, where is everyone?"

Pennyworth looked at him. "Master Bruce went out on patrol with Miss Cassandra, Miss Stephanie, and Miss Gordon. You and your brothers have been given the day off; they said they would be in the theatre room. If you'd take these cookies to them, it would be most appreciated, Master Damian."

Damian grumbled under his breath, but took the platter of cookies and made his way to the theatre.

He paused at the door, frowning. His brothers were in the room and he had the strangest feeling that they had planned this: the four of them having the night off and having Pennyworth ask him to deliver the cookies. He was sure he would regret actually opening the door, but he steeled himself and twisted the door handle.

Damian's face went blank as he took in the sight in front of him.

His three brothers – his _older_ brothers – had pushed all of the seating against the wall and were currently sitting in the middle of the room. In a tent. Made out of blankets.

( _What is wrong with them?)_

"Ooh!" Grayson began, grinning and waving at him. "Dami! You brought the cookies. Come here; close the door."

Damian set the platter on the ground and turned to walk out the room.

"Oh no you don't, you little brat!"

Sometimes, he underestimated how far his brothers were willing to go to achieve their aims. He constantly berated himself for it.

Damian grabbed the door handle as Todd wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled. Damian gritted his teeth and tightened his grip.

"Let me go, Todd! I want no part in whatever ridiculous scheme the three of you have come up with!"

"Yeah? Well I don't care what you want; you're joining the three of us and you're going to like it!"

"I won't! Put me down!"

"Just let go and stop being a brat, brat!"

"Is this actually happening?"

"Yes, Tim. Yes, it is."

"Let the handle go!"

"No!"

"Should we stop it?"

"Yes. But after we take pictures; Steph and I are putting together a family scrapbook."

"I'll take the pictures. You stop Jay from ripping Damian in half."

"I wouldn't do that, Babybird."

"You'd have to in order to get me to let go, Todd."

"Stop being stubborn!"

Damian snarled, though he knew there was no point. "This is kidnapping!"

"Damian… There are really no words for this," Drake muttered.

"Shut up, Drake! And don't think you'll escape my wrath. All of you are guilty!"

Damian heard Grayson sigh and registered the older man's presence next to him. He turned his head to glare properly at his eldest brother.

"What is this ambush, Grayson?"

He pouted. "It wasn't going to be an ambush; you were just supposed to join us. This is really all your fault."

"I fail to see how!"

"Are you going to help or am I just supposed to be holding him like this the whole night?"

"Right. Babybird, come here real quick, please?"

Drake complied, coming to stand next to Damian, across form Grayson. "Yeah?"

Damian shuddered and let go of the door handle as Grayson ran his fingers across his ribcage. He would deny that he yelped until his dying day. And even then.

Drake reached out and caught his upper body, stopping Damian from dropping to the floor by only a few feet.

"A little warning would have been nice, Dick."

There was a moment's pause.

"Oh my-"

"Wait. Hold on. What just happened?" Todd demanded, still holding on to Damian's legs.

"Did you just-"

Damian gritted his teeth and Grayson's grin. "Grayson…"

"Didn't you guys know? Our baby bro is ticklish."

"I've been trained to withstand nearly every torture known to man. I. Am. Not. Ticklish!"

Todd cackled. "This… is the best thing ever. Babybat is ticklish! Do you know what this means? Timmy, do you understand what this is?"

"Jay, no one in the world understands this better than I do. I have never been so blessed."

Grayson's laugh was obscenely bright. "All right, guys. You can torture Dami about it later when he looks less inclined to bite one of us."

"I won't stop at that," Damian muttered menacingly.

Grayson was undeterred, smiling down at him gently. "Let's move him. I'll grab the cookies and close the door."

Damian glared at nothing as Todd and Drake moved him over to their ridiculous tent. They set him down, and he contemplated trying to run, but then Grayson dimmed the lights and slid into the tent, settling at his side, and he knew he'd never escape.

He glowered at the blank movie screen as he was squished between Drake and his eldest brother. "What is the point of this?"

"We're just going to hang out, Little D. Watch a movie, eat some of Alfie's cookies, and just chill. Brotherly bonding!"

Damian stared at his oldest bother. "This is insane."

Grayson just continued to grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "It'll be fun!"

"Tt."

"You have the remote, Little Wing?"

"Yeah, just…"

Damian felt fingers run up his side; he yelped, jumping up in his surprise.

He would deny it until his dying day. Even then.

"TODD!"

Todd cackled. "I can't believe this! This is so great!"

"Todd," Damian snarled, crouching and glaring at him. "You'll regret that!"

"I don't think I will."

"Uh… You know I'm in the middle of you two, right? Could you not?"

"Guys, stop! You'll bring down the fort!"

Damian stopped himself from leaping at Todd, turning to Grayson. "Did you just call this pathetic structure a _fort_?"

"It is! It's a blanket fort."

"This isn't a fort. This is a tent, Grayson. A fort should be easily defensible and as close to impenetrable as possible. This tent is in the middle of the room, has a number of structural weaknesses, has no door, and is made of _blankets_. This is the least fort-like structure I have ever come across; it would be painfully easy to infiltrate."

The responding silence confused Damian. He looked over at Grayson, frowning at the odd expression on his face. He couldn't place it, but it worried him – not that he'd admit it, but still. He looked over at Todd and Drake, only to find them with the same expression.

"What?" he snapped, trying not to show his discomfort.

They exchanged looks before Grayson shook his head and smiled. "A tent sounds good, I guess. Next time, we'll have you help us build it so that it's a proper fort – as much of a fort as one made out of blankets can be, anyway. Let's watch the movie, huh?"

Damian frowned, but nodded. "You should have consulted me first; then this tent wouldn't be so pathetic."

Grayson laughed. "Jaybird, start the movie?"

"Yeah."

"What is this movie about?"

"Batman."

Damian blinked in confusion, turning to Drake. "Father?"

Drake smiled wryly. "A lot of people make movies about heroes, you know. Dick and Jay think it's funny to watch and point out all the discrepancies."

"It sounds annoying."

"It is."

"Now, now, Timmy," Todd said, draping an arm around Drake's shoulder and leaning forward. "Don't ruin this for Babybat This is going to be hilarious."

"Definitely!" Grayson added. "I think Tim is Robin in this one. The synopsis said that Nightwing was in it, and that Red Hood made an appearance as a minor antagonist."

"Oi! Minor? If I'm an antagonist, I should be the main one! I could have done way more damage than all the others."

"Don't sound so proud, Jason," Drake said, rolling his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the best at everything you do, Timmers."

Grayson snickered, and Damian couldn't help rolling his eyes at their antics.

"Are we going to watch the movie or not?" he groused.

* * *

"Why did you make me watch that? It was horrifying. Their form was disgusting-"

"Even when I was just starting out, I was never that bad."

"Their patrol schedules were unrealistic-"

"Their plans were full of holes-"

"The effects were pitiful-"

"The interaction, even in costume-"

"It was disgraceful."

"Agreed."

If Damian's sensibilities were less offended by that terrible film, he might take a moment to be disturbed at the complete agreement between himself and Drake.

But it wouldn't have been nearly so believable considering Damian was leaning against him, and had been for the last half hour.

( _It's only because he's conveniently located._ )

"Oh, come on! It wasn't that bad."

"Grayson, that movie should be destroyed."

"All copies should be erased from existence."

"The creators should be punished."

"Jail time seems appropriate."

Todd snorted. "You guys are too sensitive. Though I will admit that my portrayal was poorly done."

"Oh, I don't know, Jay. I sort of liked it."

"You're only saying that because Nightwing was the best part of the movie."

"Their interpretation of you was fairly accurate, Grayson."

"We'll just say that's because he's a two dimensional person."

"Oi!"

Damian snorted, suppressing a smirk. "The movie did get one thing wrong: Grayson never acts his age that often."

"Ha! He's got you there, Dickiebird."

"I'm being ganged up on. How did this happen? Tim, come over to my side!"

"Are there cookies?" Drake quipped.

"…Please?"

"No thanks."

"That hurts, Timmy."

"Yeah, yeah, stop whining already, Dick."

Grayson pouted before stretching lying down and stretching out. He yawned and patted the floor next to him. "Come on, guys."

"Are you trying to make us sleep on the floor, Grayson?"

His question was ignored. Grayson just grinned and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Damian grumbled on principle, but lied back on the floor next to his older brother, staring up at the ceiling to avoid seeing the smug grin that he knew was on Grayson's face.

Todd snorted. "Might as well."

"Ah- Jason! You didn't have to drag me! I was going to lay down anyway."

"You were moving too slow."

"I wasn't aware there was a deadline."

"Shut up."

Damian sighed under his breath, closing his eyes. He was prepared to fall asleep – as uncomfortable as he was, he'd slept in worse conditions – when Grayson spoke.

"Timmy told me what happened today at school."

His eyes snapped open, but he didn't speak. He wasn't sure where Grayson was going with this.

"I'm proud of you, Little D."

( _What?_ )

Damian gritted his teeth, sitting up abruptly. "Why?" he spat. "I attacked a child just because I can't control my temper. He was an idiot. I should be better than that."

( _I'm not good enough_.)

"Better than what?" Todd grunted. "He was ignorance incarnate. He's a bigot and he has no idea what this family is like. He can think what he wants, but if he says it to your face, you've got every right to threaten him. I would've skipped the knife and the threats and just punched him in the face really. As far as I'm concerned, you showed self-restraint."

"Because you're the model of self-restraint."

"…Shut up, Tim."

"Little Wing's right though, Dami. I'd rather you just handled it the way you and Timmy did later, but I could never be mad at you for reacting the way you did."

Damian startled when Grayson's arms wrapped around him and pulled him down to the floor. He stiffened, but couldn't help relaxing into his brother's hold. He screwed his eyes shut and took a breath.

"Grayson-"

"Damian, if you guys hadn't handled it, I probably would have dealt with the situation myself. No one gets to tell you that you don't belong with us."

"You're ours," Drake said, tone soft but surprisingly vehement.

"You're a brat, but you're our brat. Don't even, Dick."

Grayson chuckled and loosened his arms, but didn't let go. Damian was glad; he didn't want him to.

"And we need you to know that we love you too much to be okay with something like this happening. Or to be mad at you for what you did. There is no 'better than that', Damian. Not ever."

"I… Thank you."

"Of course, Little D."

"Any time, Babybat."

"You're welcome, Dami."

Grayson's voice was gentle, and Todd's voice was soft, and Drake's voice was downright fond.

Damian took another breath and let himself smile. It wasn't as though anyone could see it.

* * *

After talking to Alfred, Bruce was a little more than wary about entering the movie theatre.

("They asked me to send Master Damian to the movie theatre, sir. None of them exited the room; you'll find all of them there, Master Bruce."

"…Thank you, Alfred.")

Bruce frowned slightly as he put a hand on the door handle. He was expecting to find a cracked movie screen, overturned chairs, a fair amount of blood, and at least two children unconscious. He'd never admit to being as stunned as he was when he opened the door.

Damian was curled into Tim, face pressed into the crook of older boy's neck. Tim was actually _sleeping_ , clinging to Damian tightly, nose buried in Damian's hair. Dick was half on top of Damian, hand partially outstretched and gripping Tim's shirt tightly. Jason was lying as close to Tim as possible without actually crushing him, an arm and a leg spread across all three of his brothers, trapping them beneath him. And they were in a blanket fort.

It was the cutest thing he had ever seen. Not that he'd admit it.

His face softened and he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Dick had mentioned something about a scrapbook…

 _(And it'll be a nice picture to have.)_


	6. Bully 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, Damian breaks the rules of the road.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Damian and Tim follow through with their internal promises to thank Steph for sewing a pocket in Damian's blazer because they were actually, genuinely thankful. Steph is okay with this.

* * *

Steph smiled bemusedly when Tim blocked her from going to Cass's room.

"Uh… hey, ex-boyfriend. Did you need something?"

He smiled. "Just you for a little bit."

She blinked. "Uh… why?"

"I thought I'd take you out for brunch; you love brunch."

She raised an eyebrow and flipped her hair. "I know I'm gorgeous, Tim, but I thought we agreed that I would be the one that got away?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not a date, Steph. I just wanted to treat you. We could get waffles. With blueberry syrup."

She was tempted. She had no idea what Tim was actually planning – she knew it wasn't a date; she had been joking – but waffles were worth the risk. Even if they weren't Alfred's.

Still…

"I was going to hang with-"

"Brown!"

She and Tim turned around to see Damian approach them.

( _Wow, he's way to intent for this to be safe_.)

"Uh… Hi, Damian," she said, waving hesitantly.

"Are you done with her, Drake?"

"Excuse me!"

"No, we're in the middle of something."

"Too bad. Brown, come with me."

"Damian!"

"Stop whining, Drake."

"Hello!" Steph put her hands on her hips when both boys turned to her. "I get that I'm irresistible, but I feel like I should have some say in this."

Damian was pouting at her, though he'd deny it to his grave. It was adorable. Tim just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was probably going to go bald prematurely.

"What did you want, Dami?"

Damian crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air.

( _Brat._ )

"We're going out."

"You want me to take you somewhere?" she asked, too shocked to even bother commenting on his demanding tone.

"No. I'll drive."

"Oh my- You can't drive, Damian," Tim said, letting his face fall into his hands like he dealt with this too often.

He probably did.

"I know how," Damian protested.

"Bruce is not going to let you take one of his cars just because – where are you even trying to take Steph?"

Damian looked like he was in physical pain. Or not. Because when he was in physical pain, he went around like there was nothing wrong. So, Damian looked like a normal person who was in pain.

"I'm taking her out for waffles," he said, lip curling slightly.

Steph gaped; Time spluttered.

"You can't! I'm taking her out for waffles! How did you even know she liked waffles?"

"I asked Cain."

"That's sweet, Damian, but-"

"Don't flatter yourself, Brown. I'm repaying a debt; I don't want to owe you anything."

"A debt? For what? Introducing you to reality television?" Tim drawled, one hand on his hip, eyebrow arched.

"Okay, can I just say that's the sassiest thing I've seen from you in a while? Are you taking lessons? Are you giving lessons?"

Tim gave her a deadpan stare, and Damian snorted.

"Also, I've done things for Damian!"

"Like what?" they asked simultaneously.

"Wait, you're not allowed to ask that when you're trying to take her out to repay a debt!"

"She obviously doesn't know what I'm attempting to show my gratitude for; I have every right to ask."

"There's something wrong with your logic."

"I doubt you know what logic is, Drake."

"Says the kid who rushes into everything recklessly."

"That has nothing to do with logic, Drake; you're just proving my point."

"Well, maybe if you thought things out logically-"

"How would you know if I didn't? Are you a telepath now, Drake?"

"Please, you're-"

"Oh my gosh! You're both so cute! I need to take pictures; Dick and I are starting a scrapbook."

They both stared at her in horror, making her cackle. She snapped a picture with her phone because she hadn't been lying.

Not only did Dick actually want to start a scrapbook called Bats and BirdsTM, they were actually adorable. Normally their fights made her want to hide behind Cass because they were vicious when they went at it, but this seemed…

It reminded her more of how brothers fought as opposed to mortal enemies out for each other's blood.

"Brown-"

"Steph-"

"Okay. I have no idea why the two of you want to take me out for waffles today," she said, interrupting them before they could ask her to delete the picture.

( _Not that I would, but still_.)

"But, I'm willing to go along with it. You both can take me out for waffles. Tim, you drive. Let's go!"

They stared at her.

"You want us to take you out for waffles," Tim began.

"Together?" Damian finished.

Maybe she hadn't thought that through, but they were being adorable and she was pretty sure she could get Dick to pay her for the pictures.

"Yep!"

They shared a wary look, and Steph congratulated herself on getting them to bond over… not wanting to be in the same restaurant as one another.

"Fine."

"If that's what you want."

"Great; let's go!"

* * *

"Turn this garbage off, Drake!"

"No, Damian. Steph and I like it."

"Then at least stop signing along with it; you sound like a dying man."

"I do not!"

Steph snickered as Damian imitated Tim's singing voice perfectly. He really was a terrible singer.

"Hey?" She asked, interrupting them. "Does that mean you like my singing?"

"I'm trying to be nice, Brown. Don't force me to tell the truth."

"Seriously, Damian? That was you trying to be nice? I'd hate to see you being mean. Oh wait, I know what that looks like," Tim drawled.

"Just shut up, Drake."

Tim responded by singing along with the radio even louder than before.

Steph watched Damian grit his teeth before the boy reached forward from the back seat and turned the radio off.

"Damian! Wait- Do you even have your seatbelt on?"

"I don't need a seatbelt, Drake."

"Put your seatbelt on, Damian. Dick would kill me if he knew I was driving around with you and you didn't have your seat belt on!"

"I'm not putting it on, Drake!"

"You're just being contrary!"

"Steph, please help Damian put his seatbelt on. Damian can't seem to do it himself."

Steph gaped at Tim. She didn't want to go near him! "What? No! Look at him; he has teeth!"

"Astute observation, Brown."

"Steph! Do you want Dick to kill me?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Shut up, Demonbrat!"

"Come on, Tim, I won't tell him if you don't!"

"Please, like that matters. He has this instinct when Damian is doing something trivial but possibly life threatening. Like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or going in the snow without a coat, or watching a horror movie – or riding in a car without a seatbelt. Nothing actually useful, but still."

Steph snorted, especially when she looked back and saw Damian's pout. Because it was true. Dick's ability to pinpoint when Damian was doing something not-actually dangerous but apparently worrisome was uncanny.

 _*Ring*_

"Oh my- He's calling! Steph!"

"Don't blame me!"

"Damian!"

"This isn't my fault, Drake! He wouldn't be calling if you had let me drive!"

"You can't even see out the windshield!"

"Are you going to answer it?" Steph questioned, feeling mildly hysterical.

The car phone was ringing and Dick was calling and it was terrifying.

 _(Dick's scarier than Bruce is sometimes_.)

"Just answer it, Drake!"

"Last time Dick called me in this car, I had to pick you up from school. I'm not ready for this."

"Just do it!"

"Put your seatbelt on first!"

"What will that help?"

Steph answered the call interrupting their argument. They shot glares at her, and she shrugged.

"Hello?" Dick asked.

"Hey, Dick," Tim responded, voice surprisingly level.

"Hey, Timmy," Dick said, tone deceptively light. "I was just calling to check on Little D. Dami?"

Damian cleared his throat. "Grayson."

"Everything all right, Dami?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason," Dick responded, but his voice was laced with suspicion. "I just had a weird feeling. Everything's okay, right you guys?"

"I just said that, Grayson."

"Of course, Dick. He's fine."

Dick paused. Steph held her breath.

( _Is he buying it?)_

"Steph?" Dick asked.

Steph blanched, shooting a panicked look at Damian and Tim. "Yeah?"

"Everything's good right? I know you wouldn't keep anything from me."

The guilt was stifling. She had no idea how he did it; he should be a mom. Well, he already sort of was.

"Damian-"

"Is being surprisingly well behaved. Even if he doesn't appreciate our singing," Tim cut in, shooting a look at Damian and gesturing sharply to the seatbelt.

Damian hissed under his breath, but acquiesced, if only to avoid a reprimand from Dick.

"Really? That's what you were going to say, Steph?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Definitely. Everything fine."

"… All right. I'll talk to you all when you get back, then. Have fun."

"Thanks, we will!" Steph cried, hanging up the phone and sighing heavily in relief. "Oh my gosh! I almost died! If he didn't kill me for being complicit in Damian not wearing a seatbelt, the guilt would have suffocated me. You owe me waffles _and_ pancakes!"

"Done," Tim agreed, shaking his head. "It's just so creepy, isn't it?"

"I know!"

Damian snorted, and Steph looked back at him, rolling her eyes when she saw that he had taken his seat belt off again.

"Really?"

"It's restricting my movements."

"It's a seatbelt, Damian. That's what it does."

"Tt. I refuse to-"

 _*Ring*_

"OH MY GOSH!"

"He's calling again! He's calling again! How? Did he put cameras in the car?"

"He's not you, Drake!" Damian spat, but he was eyeing the interior of the car nervously.

"Damian!" Steph exclaimed. "Put your seatbelt back on!"

"Brown-"

"Do it, Damian! Just do it!"

Damian scowled, but followed their directions just as Tim answered the phone.

"Dick? Is something wrong?" Tim asked calmly.

Steph was mildly envious of his ability to act as though he hadn't just been freaking out. She supposed living with Dick – and all the rest of them – would do that to a person.

"Uh…" Dick began. "No, I don't think so. False alarm, I guess. Sorry, I'll let you guys go."

He hung up almost immediately, and the three of them exchanged looks.

"'False alarm'?" Steph repeated.

"I have no idea. I don't know. But, Damian, keep your seatbelt on."

"Tt. You're paranoid, Drake."

Steph noticed that he didn't even move to disengage the seatbelt.

( _This is probably why he made such a good Batman_.)

* * *

Steph was only half sure the waffles and pancakes were worth it when they slide into their booth.

Tim and Damian were sitting next to each other, which was probably a bad idea, but she wasn't going to say anything about it. She wasn't sure if it were worse because they were both wearing oversized sunglasses inside and they – and therefore she – looked disturbingly suspicious, or because they were bound to do something to get her kicked out of this diner for the rest of her life.

( _I should have just asked for money.)_

"Oh! So what is this all about? I never got an answer."

Damian looked like he was in pain again; Tim just shifted awkwardly.

"Come on! Just tell me. I want to know what I'm being thanked for."

Damian sniffed. "I don't know what Drake is thanking you for, but I'm attempting to show my gratitude for your help in sewing a pocket into my blazer."

Steph blinked. "The secret knife pocket? It wasn't that big a deal."

"It's the only reason I wasn't suspended today, so I'm thanking you. Don't be an ingrate, Brown."

"There's that Wayne charm," Steph muttered, rolling her eyes. "If only you were a few years older."

Damian snorted and pushed his glasses up his nose.

She stifled a giggle. "What about you, Tim?"

"Uh… I mentioned earlier, right? I wanted to do a friend thing; it's been a while since we have…"

Steph stared; she had a feeling Damian was rolling his eyes behind his shades.

( _So much awkwardness_.)

"You're normally a better liar than that. But, whatever. I'm just glad for waffles and pancakes."

Tim coughed and looked away as she waved down a waitress.

"Hi! I'm Danielle, and I'll be your server today; here are the menus. Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll have a coffee – black. Could you bring some sugars?"

Steph rolled her eyes at Tim's predictability. "Two milks. Wait – Damian, you drink milk right? I mean, it's an animal product…"

He glowered. "I'm a vegetarian, not a vegan, Brown. Not that I'd expect you to know the difference."

Steph just rolled her eyes. "Two milks, thanks."

Danielle smiled and walked away. "I'll be right out with that."

"Still," Tim muttered, "it's a good thing you drink milk. Otherwise I doubt you'd ever grow."

Damian bristled; Steph did her best to stifle her laugh. Tim had brought height up. This was about to get good.

"Don't be ridiculous, Drake! If anyone's growth is stunted, it's yours. All you ever do is drink coffee and energy drinks. It's your own fault if you never get past your current height."

Tim gaped. "No. Stop. I'm going to grow. Coffee-"

"Is impeding your growth. You'll never get any taller. Or broader. You can't even blame it on genetics."

"I-"

"Here are your drinks!"

Steph giggled and the smug look on Damian's face and the horrified look on Tim's.

( _Has he seriously never thought about that?_ )

"Thanks, Danielle! Can we get a few more minutes to order?"

"Sure thing; I'll be back in a second."

Steph grinned, turning the other two. "All right, boys, you're both wonderfully masculine and will eventually surpass Bruce in height. Look at your menus and find something to eat, huh?"

They both sighed and nodded, pouting slightly. They looked more like brothers than she had ever seen them. It was so cute.

And then Damian blew up.

"What is this?" he snarled, waving the paper menu in the air. "Is this a _children's_ menu? Where is that woman? I don't appreciate her patronizing me; I demand-"

"Sit down, Damian!" Steph hissed, waving her hand at him until he grudgingly complied.

Tim dropped his head onto the table. "We're going to get kicked out. We're never going to be allowed back here. Damian is going to get us kicked out."

Damian leaned forward, hissing. "This is a travesty of proper food service, Brown! Not to mention complete and utter disrespect – treating me like a child!

( _Nope. Nope. Not touching that.)_

"Damian."

Steph shook her head furiously, not caring if Damian could see her.

 _(Please don't_.)

Tim looked her straight in the eye. "You are a child."

Steph threw her head back and groaned. "You are the worst ex-boyfriend ever."

"Don't insult me, Drake! Denotation-wise, perhaps, but in every other sense of the word, I am not. And this menu is insufficient towards providing proper nutrients. I eat as much as a fully grown female to compensate for my training – and I'm still growing! Thus, I need more calories than any meal on this list could provide me. _So,_ _I demand_ -"

Tim snatched the menu from Damian's hands and gave him the adult menu. "I already know what I'm getting; just look through that."

Damian paused before nodding, a scowl on his face. "Fine. But this establishment-"

"Yes, yes. W.E. will file a lawsuit about handing out kid's menus without asking if a kid wants one or not. I'll tell B when we get back."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, Drake."

"Noted and ignored. You should try the French toast; it's good. You'll like it. The hash-browns are good, too. It's what I'm getting."

"…Fine."

Steph resisted the urge to squeal. She had so many stories to tell Dick. And Cass. And Alfred. All of them.

"Look at you two!" she shouted. "Eating the same food, matching expressions, bickering without trying to stab each other! I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone or something!"

"We're in public; I couldn't stab him if I wanted to."

"Seriously, Steph? You're making way too big a deal out of nothing."

Steph smirked at them, ignoring the glares she could feel from behind their sunglasses.

"Hey! Do you guys know what you want, yet?" Danielle asked, popping up just in time to interrupt would have likely turned into a fight.

"I'll have the Belgian Waffle Platter and then the Short-stack Buttermilk Pancake Platter. Bacon for both, scrambled eggs," Steph said, smiling.

This was going to be great. She was pretty sure that the day would still end up in disaster, but, at the very least, she would get a whole lot of breakfast out of it.

"Gotcha'. How about you two?"

"We'll have two Supreme French Toast Platters with hash-browns. Sausage with just one," Tim said, smiling and handing her both of the menus on the table.

Damian glared at the kid's menu pointedly until Tim gave in and handed it to Danielle.

"Could you throw that away for us too?"

"Of course! Your food will be out in just a little."

"Thank you." Tim waited until she had left to turn to Damian. "You're so difficult."

"Hardly. "

"So," Steph started, leaning forward with a grin. "Alfred told us – 'us' being me, Cass, and Babs – that you – 'you- being you two, Dick, and Jason – had a fun night last night. There were movies, cookies, blanket forts…"

"It wasn't a fort!"

"What of it?" Tim asked, voice laced with mistrust.

( _He knows me so well.)_

"What? You mean Dick didn't tell you? Bruce took a picture of the four of you together. It was sent to everyone – except for you, Damian, and Jason. For obvious reasons."

She pulled out her phone, unlocking it, and pulling up the photo. She held out her phone, grinning.

She had never seen either of them turn that red. She turned the phone around, snapping the picture discreetly. Not that it mattered; the two of them were so busy trying not to die from a mixture of anger and embarrassment that they didn't even notice.

They shared a look and scooted to opposite ends of the booth, making her laugh.

"Seriously?"

"That… that…"

"We were sleeping. We can't be held responsible for our actions."

"Exactly!"

"What does it matter? It's not like it can be used for blackmail – everyone in the family has it. It's _cute_!"

She stared at them, wondering if Tim would help Damian when the boy inevitably decided to jump her in order to take her phone and delete the photo.

 _*Ring*_

Tim looked away from her, answering his phone. "Hey, Jay. What's up?" He snorted. "Creepy timing – Steph just showed me. How'd you find out? Of course Dick is happy about it. No, that probably won't work. Everyone has one, so you'll have to do better than that. Yes, I mean everyone. B took the picture. Yes, Cass too. And Babs. Everyone, Jason – do you know what that word means? No, Jason, I'm not- Damian! Stop!"

Steph raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her seat as Damian jumped on Tim and started trying to grab the phone. Damian had all but crawled into Tim's lap, and the older boy was leaning away as far as he could without falling out of his seat – which was actually pretty far, given his sense of balance.

"Just give me the phone, Drake!"

"No! Dam- Jason, shut up! Stop it, Damian! I will hang up on you, Jason!"

"You could call him yourself, Dami," Steph pointed out, taking a sip from her milk. She was ignored. So, she turned her attention to smiling at the other patrons, who were stating at them; they really didn't need to get reported to the police.

"Ha!"

Steph looked back over at them, blinking in surprise. Somehow, Tim had ended up half in the booth and half on the floor, while Damian was smirking triumphantly and sitting on Tim's legs.

 _(I probably should have let them take me separately_.)

"Todd, what do you plan to do about this? Drake is fine-"

"I don't think you're qualified to say that when you pushed me out of the booth."

"That's not the point, Todd. This needs to be dealt with. I suggest we blackmail them. We-"

"Or you could ask," Steph suggested.

Damian stared at her silently.

"Steph," Tim began slowly. "Will you delete the picture?"

Steph grinned and leaned over the table. She tapped the button to delete the picture and smirked and the slack-jawed looks she got from both of them.

"I'll even tell the others to delete the photos, too. It's the least I can do since you're treating me for no reason, ex-boyfriend."

He gaped. "Thanks, Steph."

"Todd, it's taken care of. Brown deleted the picture; she said she'll tell the others too as well. Yes. We saw her do it. Tt _. Goodbye_ , Todd."

Steph grinned as Damian hung up and moved off of Tim's legs.

No need to tell them that Babs had copies saved on her computer and that Alfred had already created physical copies for the scrapbook.

Tim grunted as he pulled himself up and dusted off his shirt. He snatched his phone from Damian with a scowl. "Brat."

Damian's retort was cut short as Danielle walked over with their food.

"Here we go! The waffles and pancakes for you, French toast with sausage for you, and French toast with bacon for you. Let me know if you need anything!"

There was utter silence as she walked away from their table. Steph knew it wouldn't last long.

"Drake."

What she could see of Tim's face looked resigned. He tried anyway.

"Damian, just take the bacon off of your plate."

He snarled. "I demand recompense!"

"Just give it to me or Steph."

"No! First, the children's menu. Now, bacon? That woman needs to be fired! I demand to speak to her employer!"

Steph winced. "Hey! If you think about it, it's Tim's fault."

They both turned to her sharply.

( _Sorry, Tim_.)

"He said sausage on one plate only. That's not exactly clear."

Damian turned to Tim with a furious scowl. "So you planned it!"

"What? Steph- no, Damian, I didn't plan it! It was an accident – on both our parts. I wasn't as clear as I could have been and she just didn't understand. No one is trying to force you to eat meat!"

Damian leaned forward, and Steph subtly moved utensils away from him. He shot her a sneer before turning back to Tim.

"All of you say that it's not healthy for me to be a vegetarian. Including you, Drake. How do I know this wasn't a ploy?"

"Oh my- It's not a ploy, Damian. I just wasn't thinking."

Damian cocked his head thoughtfully, staring at Tim for a few more seconds before a smirk overtook his face. "That's not exactly a surprise then."

Tim threw his head back, but Steph just laughed, relaxing now that Damian had sat back down.

"You walked right into that one."

"I know," he groaned.

Steph's lips quirked when Damian flicked both pieces of bacon at his brother's face. Tim didn't even react.

(A _dorable._ )

* * *

"Oh! That was so good!"

Damian and Tim stared at her.

"What?"

"That's disgusting, Brown."

"I wouldn't say that, but… How did you eat all of that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I always have room for breakfast food. You should be embarrassed that you don't."

Tim's smile was confused but fond. Damian still looked disturbed.

"Was everything good, then?" Danielle asked, walking up to the table with a check in her hand.

Steph grinned and kicked Damian under the table when she noticed he was scowling at their waitress. Kid had no chill.

"It was excellent, thanks."

"All right, here's the check. Have a good day!"

Steph's smile dropped as he woman walked away; there was way too much tension at the table now. She'd take a guess and say it was because Tim and Damian had started playing tug-of-war with the check.

"Let go, Drake!"

"I'm paying, Damian."

"You drove."

"That has absolutely nothing to do with this!"

"Give me the check, Drake! I'm paying my debt; you're only here because you wanted to treat her. You can do that later."

Steph hummed in agreement, noting the smug smirk on Damian's face amusedly. Tim frowned, but she had no sympathy. He should have just been honest about his reasons.

"But we're already here, so I might as well do it now. You can do it later."

"I have no desire to repeat this process."

"Just let me pay."

"No!"

"I'm older!"

"How is that relevant?"

"I-"

"You could split the check," Steph suggested.

As funny as it was to watch, there were way too many witnesses here.

They looked at her briefly and then looked at each other. They filled their quota of grumbling, but both pulled out their wallets, so Steph counted it as a win for her.

Especially since she didn't have to pay a cent.

"Well, check's 35.57. Maybe, six dollars for the tip? So, just go an even 21 dollars each?"

Damian snorted.

( _Here we go_.)

"Why should we tip that woman?"

Tim heaved an exasperated sigh. "It's polite to tip."

"No. You tip someone who's service was excellent. Her service was not excellent. She doesn't deserve to be tipped. We can pay 18 dollars each and leave her the change if we have to be _polite._ "

He was hissing again. Like a cat. Steph snorted; she needed to mention that to Cass. They were trying to figure out what Damian's spirit animal was.

"That's… We can't tip her 43 cents, Damian."

"That's what her service was worth."

"You're just upset about the kid's menu and the bacon!"

"It was an insult!"

"I thought we established that it wasn't!"

"The problem being that _you thought_."

Steph let out a whistle. "Again! Burn!"

"Really, Steph?"

"What?"

She could feel him rolling his eyes. Also, he was doing that tilting thing with his neck, which was sort of a giveaway.

"Damian, we're tipping."

"I won't."

"Then I will; and that means I'll be paying more than you."

Damian snarled. "Fine!"

( _The fact that that worked is just sad_. _But not really surprising_.)

"Good," Tim said, sounding so smug it annoyed even her. "So, 21 each-"

"You can pay 21 if you want, Drake. I'll pay 24."

( _Oh no_.)

Tim's jaw clenched. "28 for me."

"35."

"40."

"46."

"56."

"OH MY GOSH! Stop!" Steph exclaimed. "I get that you're rich, but please. Just pay the 21 and be done with it."

For a second, she thought she'd convinced them.

"67," Damian spat.

Tim scowled, pulling his wallet out and opening it. "302."

Damian pulled his wallet out and cursed. "289," he growled.

Tim smirked and smacked the wad of cash on table. "Too bad, I guess."

Damian just sneered, putting his bills right next to the money Tim had laid down.

Steph just stared at the pile. "This is why I wanted to hang out with Cass today. Because she doesn't carry hundreds of dollars in her wallet and fight with her brother about who can leave a bigger tip. Let's just… go."

Steph stood up, shaking her head and walking out of the restaurant without a backwards look. Waynes were so embarrassing. Honestly.

"I feel like, at the end of this, you both owe me more brunch than you did before we started"

"I'm not doing this again, Brown. We're even."

"Maybe later."

Steph shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Remember to put your seatbelt on, Dami."

"Shut up, Brown."

"Do you want to get another call from Dick?"

"Leave me alone, Drake; stop being paranoid."

"Wow, really? _You_ are going to tell _me_ to stop being paranoid? Really?"

Steph threw her head back and laughed.

( _I don't know why I love these idiots.)_


	7. Field Trip

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. (Attempted) crimes.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Stephanie Brown (mentioned), Barbara Gordon (mentioned), Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like go on a field trip.

* * *

Dick stared at Tim. Tim stared back.

"This is such a bad idea. It's not even funny. Okay, scratch that, it'll be hilarious. But that doesn't mean it's not a terrible idea. Don't do it."

"Timmy! How could you say that? This is an excellent opportunity for Dami – and the first time he's ever wanted to be involved in any school related activity!"

Tim cocked and eyebrow. Dick hung his head.

Neither of them needed to say it.

Dick rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked down at the permission slip. Damian had handed it to him when he'd arrived home from school, actually excited for once – as excited as he had ever been for anything that wasn't Robin-related.

("Here, Grayson."

"Hi, Damian. How was your day? Mine was good."

"I don't have time for pleasantries, Grayson. Sign this so that I can go train.")

He sighed heavily and waved the papers in front of Tim's face. "It's a permission slip to go on a field trip to the zoo, Tim!"

"I know, Dick. And that's a disaster waiting to happen."

Dick pouted. It was undeniably true. If he signed it, then Damian would go to the zoo and…

Dick didn't really want to think about what would happen if Damian went to the zoo.

( _Why is Bruce always off-world when things like this happen? If he were here, I wouldn't have to deal with this_.)

"I can't not sign it."

Tim rolled his eyes, unsympathetic. "So sign it and loose the Demon on the unsuspecting population of zoo-visitors. I'm telling B that I told you not to, by the way."

"Thanks," he deadpanned before grabbing his pen and signing on the dotted line. "…We won't be held liable for damages, will we?"

Tim blinked, snatching the papers from him and flipping through them. He paused on the second sheet. "Oh… Well, this might be the solution to our problems - or your problem because I refuse to take any responsibility for what happens."

"What is it?"

"A slip to volunteer as a chaperone."

Dick paused and shared a look with Tim.

"Tim-"

"No. Absolutely not. We already spent time together this week. We went on patrol. You do it; aren't you always saying you don't get to spend as much time with him as you want to?"

Dick frowned. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Damian – of course he did!

He'd just prefer it if they didn't spend time together at a zoo.

"…Maybe, neither of us has to do it. I mean… we don't have to volunteer to chaperone."

"You mean _you_ don't have to volunteer. And that's true. But since you already signed it, the least you can do is not leave him unattended."

"He wouldn't be unattended!"

Tim didn't bother responding.

( _Yeah, that sounded weak, even to me.)_

"What about Cass?" Dick asked, looking back at the slip.

"She and Steph are going shopping that day. I know because I had to lie to Steph and say that I scheduled a meeting so I couldn't go. But I hope you know I'd rather go with them than chaperone Damian's field trip."

"Well, I could ask Babs…"

"You want to ask Barbara to chaperone?"

The amount of disbelief Tim infused into his voice was just hurtful.

"Well what should I do Tim?"

"About what?"

They both turned to face Jason as he walked into the room. Dick locked eyes with Tim and they nodded at one another.

Dick turned back to Jason and grinned, pretending not to notice when Jason shifted warily.

( _Good instincts, as always_.)

"Jaybird! Excellent timing!"

Tim smiled. "The best," he said, sipping his coffee.

Dick elbowed him in the side.

"Uh… I think I'm going to go find Alfred. Or the Babybat. Or anyone else."

"Don't be mean, little brother! Come sit!"

"And speaking of Damian…" Tim added.

Dick nodded, standing and walking over to Jason, swinging an arm around his shoulders. "How would you like to fulfil your responsibility as an older brother?"

"I would rather not, thanks."

"Don't be like that, Jay! It's-"

"What's going on?" Jason interrupted, looking at Tim.

"Dick wants you to take Damian out on a field trip. I'm not doing it, and Dick would, but he does have to head back to Bludhaven every once and a while. He wasn't sure who he would get to chaperone Damian, since Cass and Steph are busy that day. Looks like you're the perfect option."

( _Thank you for being such a great liar, Timmy_.)

Jason snorted and shrugged Dick's arm off of his shoulder. "Is that all? I thought it was something horrifying like giving him The Talk."

They shuddered in unison.

"We're leaving that to Alfred," Dick said.

"He might already know, and then we can avoid it entirely," Tim mused.

"For some reason, I don't think Talia would have bothered to cover that."

Tim shrugged and held up the pen. "You want me to forge it for you?"

Jason rolled his eyes and snatched the pen away, scrawling his signature on the sheet without reading anything.

 _(Yes!_ )

"Aren't you happy? Your first official endeavor as a legally living citizen is taking the Demon on a field trip. You must be excited."

"Shut up. Where is it at anyway?"

Dick took the forms from his little brother and smiled sunnily. "You're taking him and his class to the zoo."

Jason stared at him as he processed the statement. "Dick," he growled. "You had better be joking."

He shrugged. "It's a good opportunity to spend time with him. Besides: no take-backs."

He ran out of the room before Jason could start chasing him.

( _This probably won't end well_.)

* * *

Jason would deny being addicted to cigarettes until his second dying day, but he wasn't actually sure if he would survive this without smoking.

"I can't believe they made us take a bus," Damian sneered.

He definitely wouldn't survive this without smoking.

He took a drag of his first – okay, third – cigarette of the day and exhaled with a sigh. "How else were we supposed to get here?"

Damian just crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath, but Jason counted it as a win.

"All right, class! Before we head into the zoo, let's lay some ground rules."

Jason turned to the teacher – Ms. Andrews-call-me-Stacy – and snorted quietly. It was a wonder Damian hadn't convinced her to retire early.

"First," she continued, "let me introduce our chaperones: Mrs. Davidson, Mrs. Clark, and Mr. Todd. The class will be divided into four groups and your designated chaperone will escort you through the zoo. If everything goes according to schedule, each group will get through half of the zoo, then we'll all meet in the café for lunch at 1:00 before we separate and finish the tour, gathering back here at 2:30. Any questions?"

Mrs. Clark-no-Amy-please cleared her throat. "How many students per group?"

"Each of you will have four students, and I'll take five. Yes, Mrs. Davidson?"

"My son will be with me, won't he?"

"Of course."

"Good riddance," Damian muttered.

Jason snorted.

Stacy smiled. "Now, shall we divide everyone up?"

Jason turned to his little brother while she assigned them students. "All right, brat, I got conned into this, and I'm sure that we'll probably end up in jail before this is all over-"

"You might."

"But, so I can bring you home and at least pretend that I tried to be a responsible older brother, I'm going to tell you now: don't cause any trouble."

Damian glared at him mulishly. "I wasn't planning to, Todd."

 _(Right. That seems totally true_. _I'm going to kill Dick when we get back._ )

"Mr. Todd?"

Jason turned to look at the three kids standing in front of him and grimaced inwardly. He didn't have anything against kids, really, but he wasn't sure if he could watch the three of them and keep Damian from kidnapping a penguin or something at the same time.

"Right. What's your name? All of you."

"I'm Oscar."

"Amelia."

"My name is Patrick."

Jason nodded, taking note of how their body language screamed nervousness. He wasn't sure if it were the fact that they were in a group with Damian, the fact that they were in a group with Jason and he was Damian's older brother, or the fact that he had supposedly faked his death and was now their chaperone. Probably a combination of all of the above – but mostly Damian, considering how they kept shooting glances at the kid as if he were about to attack them at any time.

"Okay, good. Listen up. We'll save the penguins, giraffes, and moneys for after lunch. That means we'll check out the lions, reptiles, and… all the other animals now. Any problems?"

They shook their heads. Damian scoffed; Jason ignored him.

It was probably a bad idea to chain smoke while chaperoning a group of impressionable 10 year olds, but it wasn't like he was going to ask them if they wanted to try. He suppressed a smirk.

"All right then, let's get moving."

* * *

Damian scowled and shifted his backpack up his shoulder as they looked at the lions. He stood off to the side, as far away from his brother and classmates as could be without provoking Todd to call him back over.

( _I'm never going to get away from them if he's keeping such a close eye on me.)_

Damian gritted his teeth as he thought back to the earlier exhibits they'd visited. Every time he'd tried to slip away, Todd had been there to stop him, grinning smugly the whole time. It was like Todd knew that he was planning something.

He sighed and looked through the glass at the lioness that had approached him. He stared at her unfalteringly.

( _I'll get all of them out of here_.)

"Trying to get her to submit, kid?"

Damian wrinkled his nose and glared balefully at his brother. "Leave me alone, Todd."

He smirked. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you hated it here. But that wouldn't make sense, considering how excited you were to come."

"Tt. That shows what you know, Todd. I'm quite looking forward to the rest of the visit."

Todd stared at him, his expression blank. "That didn't sound ominous at all."

"Even if I wanted to do something, I wouldn't be able to."

Todd's eyebrow twitched. "I'd believe that if you were any other kid. I swear, Dick owes me so much for this."

Damian hummed. "Drake made Grayson buy him two thousand dollars' worth of energy drinks."

"…Tim is going to die."

Damian snorted and crossed his arms. "Don't you have children to watch?"

Todd cursed and spun around quickly. "Oi, you three! Get over here!"

"Really, Todd?"

"What? It's time to head to lunch anyway."

Damian frowned. "What number cigarette is that? Nine?"

"Twelve. And I'm blaming you for that, by the way. This is too much stress."

"It's your fault for not knowing how to cope."

"No, that's B's fault. I have two coping mechanisms, and smoking is the only one I can actually put into practice here."

"Yes, Mr. Todd?"

Todd turned to Damian's three classmates. "Okay, we're going to head to the café and get lunch now. Raise your hand if you brought your own lunch. All of you? Good. Let's go then. You kids have fun?"

Damian rolled his eyes.

( _Why is he starting conversation?_ )

"Yeah! It was so awesome. I didn't really like the snakes but seeing the other animals was so cool!"

"'Cool'?" Damian sneered. "Spare me, Thompson. There's nothing 'cool' about seeing animals held in captivity against their will."

"Wh- but-"

"Unless you're a sadist who enjoys the idea of animals being taken out of their natural habitat and forced to live and breed in captivity. Are you, Thompson? Because- why are you crying?" Damian gaped at the girl in confusion.

"Damian! Seriously? Okay, Amelia, stop crying. Sh-oot Shoot. Stop. Please. Why did you make her cry?"

"I didn't know she was going to cry, Todd! There was nothing to cry about!"

"I don't want to be a sadist!"

Cra-b apples! One of you make her stop!"

"What?"

"How?"

"You sound like an idiot, Todd! Thompson! Stop blubbering immediately! So long as you acknowledge the cruelty of this establishment you won't be branded a sadist."

"That's not going to work!"

"Do you mean it?"

He shot a smug look at his brother before turning back to Thompson, whose pathetic sobbing had finally subsided. "Yes. No stop crying. It's annoying."

"O-okay."

Todd stared him before dropping his face into his hand. "Let's go."

Damian growled when Todd grabbed his arm and pulled him to the front of the group, but didn't bother trying to get away.

"I can't believe you just made that little girl cry."

"That wasn't my fault."

He refused to feel bad for it.

Okay. He felt a little bad about it, but he hadn't meant to make her cry.

( _Girls are ridiculous.)_

"Whatever, brat. You should apologize."

Damian crossed his arms.

"Yeah, didn't think so. But I have to check this stuff off the list so Alfred doesn't have anything to look at me for when we get back."

"'Look at you for'?"

"Yeah, when he gets that look where he's obviously disappointed but decides not to say it outright to let you stew in your own guilt. He might as well beat me with a crowbar."

Damian smirked. "Don't be morbid, Todd."

Damian scowled when Todd ruffle his hair, but was gracious enough to respond only by swatting his hand away. No need to attack him in public.

"All right, speed it up! I need food if I have to put up with you all for another hour and a half."

"You're confusing food with nicotine."

"Shut up, brat."

* * *

"Okay," Jason said, looking at his group and ignoring the glare on his little brother's face. "You guys go get a seat over there next to your teacher. I'm going to get in line and grab some food. What do you want, Damian?"

"Nothing with meat."

"Yeah, yeah. I can't believe you're still doing that."

"I mean it, Todd!"

Jason rolled his eyes and debated whether or not he should light another cigarette.

( _Better wait until after lunch_.)

He snorted and waved the four of them away. "Don't make anyone else cry."

His advice – sound as it was – was ignored as Damian stalked off to the seating area. His classmates hesitated, only beginning the trek when they were separated from Damian by a few yards.

"Poor kids."

Jason shook his head and walked over to the line. He stifled a groan when the woman in front of him turned around to face him. Not that she wasn't pretty, but he'd seen that look on too many faces after he had been reintroduced to society.

"Hi! I'm Annie. You're Jason Todd, right?"

"Yep."

"I saw your press conference a couple weeks ago. I think it was really brave of you to pursue your dreams like that – and wanting to help people."

He managed not to snort. Just barely. "Uh-huh. You can move up now."

She was still smiling. "Thanks! So, how do you like being back?"

"I'd like to flirt with you, but if I do, my little brother might come around and make you cry – he's sort of a brat like that."

"Wh-"

"And I'd let him. You're next."

She looked ridiculously offended; he was sort of sad that he hadn't had his phone out to take a picture of her face.

Thankfully, she just turned around to place her order.

( _You could be a little less famous, B. None of us would mind.)_

He sighed and checked his watch. 1:11. That was too much time. He just wanted to get Damian home before anything happened. The kid had been surprisingly well behaved – not counting the whole making Amelia cry thing. Of course, he had also tried to sneak away more times than Jason felt like counting, but other than that…

 _*Ring*_

Jason answered the phone with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not honestly surprised you're calling."

"Hey, Jay, what's up?"

He snorted. "Hold on, I'm ordering lunch." He pulled the phone away from his ear. "One pepperoni slice, once cheese, and two bottles of water, thanks."

He stepped off to the side and returned to his phone call.

"What do you want, Dickiebird?"

He didn't know why he was asking; he knew.

"Just checking. I had a feeling."

Jason groaned. Not one of his feelings. "What? Do you think he's talking to a stranger or something? Damian's fine, Dick."

"Can I speak to him?"

"Why don't you call him?"

"Because if I'm right then he won't answer."

Jason shook his head. The two of them were ridiculous. He looked over where Damian was sitting and froze.

"Jason?"

"Let me call you back."

"What- Jason!"

"He's fine, Dick. The kid's just making some cry again."

Dick didn't answer. Jason could feel his suspicion through the phone.

( _Oh, come on!)_

"I'll call you back and let you talk to him after I deal with this, okay?"

"…I'll call you in 15 minutes."

Jason hung up his phone and strode over to the table. "Hey, Stacy."

She looked over at him with a strained smile. "Yes, Jason?"

He felt sort of bad for what he was about to ask her, but that wasn't going to stop him. It was for the greater good, after all. "You mind watching my group for a bit?"

He'd only seen a few people pale that thoroughly. They had all been villains he was going to shoot.

"Uh… well-"

"Not Damian," he clarified.

Her relieved sigh would have been offensive, but… it was Damian.

"Of course, of course. Even Damian would have been fine."

He didn't believe that for a minute; she was already getting her color back.

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah; kid's just throwing a temper tantrum."

She looking intensely frightened.

"Right. Right. You should go handle that…"

He smiled. "Thanks again."

He walked out of the café, taking another drag of his cigarette.

( _I really hope he isn't kidnapping a penguin_. _Might as well check there first.)_

* * *

Damian hadn't wasted any time slipping away from his classmates as soon as Todd had left to order their food. He smirked to himself as he exited the café and stood in the hallway.

There were a few ways he could do this, but he wanted to maximize his efficiency before Todd realized he was gone. There were still some people milling about, but he doubted they'd be much of an obstacle.

He wrinkled his nose and stalked down the hallway, ignoring the stragglers. He paused when he came across the penguin enclosure. The area was fairly deserted, and the lack of witnesses would make his job easier.

It was painfully easy for him to break into the tank-like structure holding the animals, even holding the bucket of fish he had snagged from the cooler. Security in this place was terrible. If someone who wasn't trying to help broke in, there would be little to deter them. Just another reason to justify his actions: the zoo obviously didn't care enough about their animals to protect them adequately.

The temperature had dropped slightly, as he had expected, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Not that it would matter if it were. He'd been in worse conditions before.

He put one hand on his hip and used the other to hold up the pail.

"Listen up, penguins: your freedom is here! I intend to lead you back to your homeland and perform rehabilitation so that you all can survive in your natural habitat!"

They didn't respond, of course. He pulled a fish out of the bucket and threw it towards them. They huddled together, fighting for the treat. He grinned and pulled out another fish.

"Now-"

"Are you freaking kidding me?!"

Damian turned sharply, eyes widening as he stared at his brother.

( _How did he find me so fast?)_

"Todd- stop it!" Damian scowled and held the bucket above his head as the penguins gathered around him.

"You little brat! Get out of there!" He was trying to sound stern, but he was laughing.

Damian twisted around to face him, glaring. "Shut up, Todd! Stop taking pictures!"

Todd cackled. "Not ever. I can't believe you're actually doing this. How did you even plan to get them out of here?"

Damian just glowered at him, rising onto his tiptoes as the penguins became more insistent. "Don't you have children to watch?"

"Just you."

That grin was getting on his nerves.

"So," Todd drawled. "Need help there, baby bro?"

"…I'm taking the penguins."

"No. You're not."

"Why not?"

Damian didn't whine. He didn't.

"You think I want to get in trouble with Alfred because I let you steal a bunch of penguins?" Todd smacked the glass demonstratively. "Get out of there."

"Just one."

"Oh my- no. I'm not going to jail because of you."

"Father let me keep the cow."

He banged his head against the glass.

"Careful, Todd, you can't afford to lose anymore brain cells."

"Will you just-"

 _*Ring*_

Todd rolled his eyes and answered his phone. "It hasn't even been 15 minutes yet, Dick."

Damian frowned.

( _Great. Grayson's calling.)_

Todd eyed him. "Yeah, he's here. Hey, kid, guess who wants to talk to you?"

Damian growled and threw the pail of fish into the water. All of the birds followed it, diving into the pool. Damian crossed his arms and glared at Todd.

"I would have managed to free them if not for your interference, Todd."

"You sound like a cartoon villain. Just come out here and talk to Dickiebird. He's in a bathroom stall. Pouting. Because he's a brat."

"Shut up, Todd!"

"What is going on here?!"

Damian pivoted on his foot and gritted his teeth as an employee stared at him.

"We'll call you back. Hey! Listen-"

"Security! Security!"

"What the- What are you calling security for, you idiot? He's a kid! He's leaving. Just shut up!"

Damian rolled his shoulders and shifted his stance as the guards answered the woman's call.

"Tt. Like I'll let them take me."

"Oi! Don't fight them, brat! And what's wrong with you? Call them off!"

"He broke into the penguin enclosure!"

"Whose fault is that?"

"His!"

"Get better security!"

Damian rolled his eyes and took a step back, tuning their yelling out. His brother was a child and that woman was an idiot. He needed to focus on the two guards approaching him. He couldn't attack them – obviously. But he wasn't just going to let them take him.

"I doubt either of you are capable enough to capture me, but you're welcome to try."

* * *

Dick stared at his brothers blankly. "Tim is my new favorite."

Damian crossed his arms, pouting and avoiding his gaze. Jason leaned against the car, smoking. Like Dick hadn't just picked him up from a holding cell. With their 10-year-old brother.

"Look," Jason began casually. "I didn't even know they could arrest 10-year-olds."

Dick took a deep breath. He should probably take Steph up on that offer to go to yoga classes. It would probably do wonders for his stress levels. Especially if Steph was the only other member of the family there.

"Jason," Dick said flatly. "How did the two of you get arrested? And why does Damian smell like fish? And also… what is he covered in?"

"Penguin feces," Damian supplied grudgingly. "And dirt."

"Don't look at me like that, Bigbird! You knew this was going to be bad."

"You were supposed to be there to stop it from getting this bad!"

"I did! If I hadn't been there, he would have stolen the penguins."

( _Seriously?)_

Dick turned to Damian.

"They're being held against their will, Grayson!"

"Here we go," Jason muttered.

"We're heroes. As heroes, it is our job to rescue any creature being abused-"

"They're not being abused, brat."

"And what would you know, Todd?"

"Get in the car, please," Dick interrupted wearily.

How was he even supposed to deal with this?

"And the two of you can tell Alfie all about this when we get home."

Damian and Jason looked miserable and horrified respectively.

( _Good.)_

* * *

"I don't think I ever thanked Bruce for putting Damian in school."

"Shut up, Tim."

"Shut up, Drake."

"Don't you have coffee to drink?"

Tim cocked an eyebrow at Dick and took a sip from his mug. "I told you so."


	8. The Flu

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne, Colin Wilkes (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like catch the flu from a classmate.

* * *

Dick was scrolling through the posts on the Gotham Academy Mom's Facebook page when he saw the news. He huffed and grabbed his cellphone, dialing the Manor.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Jay? That's how you choose to answer the phone?"

"Don't judge me. 50% of your diet consists of cereal."

"That has nothing to do with my manners."

"I eat healthy, so I can afford to slack off in other departments."

"Jason – no. Not having this conversation. I actually called for a reason."

"To tell us you're not coming back? I'm not prepared to throw a party, Dick. You should have given me more warning."

Dick snorted. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. Where's Alfie? Or Bruce?"

"B's working and Alfred's at the store. Am I not good enough? I'm hurt, Dickiebird."

"Are you volunteering to make sure Damian's properly bundled up before he goes to school on Monday?"

"…Tim! Phone for you!"

"Oh my gosh. Give the phone to Cass please."

"Ah. Good choice. Never mind, you nerd! Cass! It's for you! What prompted this, by the way?"

"Well, the weather's getting colder. Plus, I was on the Gotham Academy Mom's Facebook page and they were talking about how there's a bug going around. The flu, I think. It's just better to make sure he doesn't get the sniffles or anything from the temperature outside when there's already a huge chance that he'll catch something from one of his classmates."

"…"

Dick looked at his phone curiously. "Jason? Jay?

"Dick… No. I have to do this in person. And with Tim as back up. Oh, here's Cass. Make sure you come home soon."

( _I'd think he misses me, but that actually sounded ominous_.)

"Dick."

Dick shook his head and smiled. "Cass! Hey. I was just calling because I need someone to make sure that Damian actually puts on a scarf and gloves. A hat too. And his bigger coat, because he'd probably try to wear a cardigan or something. Because I know if I just call him and tell him he'll ignore me. Lots of layers too. Ask Alfred for some long johns. Oh, maybe earmuffs too? Could you do that for me?"

She hummed. "Yeah. When are you coming back?"

"Hmm… In a little while probably. I'll be back maybe… Tuesday? Yeah. Tuesday probably. Can't make it back before then."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye! Love you!"

"Me too."

Dick smiled and hung up the phone, turning back to his laptop.

( _And Babs said that joining the group would be silly.)_

* * *

Tim scoffed. "You're joking."

"Do you think I could come up with something this amazing?"

"Glad to see you're finally admitting that you're not that clever. Never thought I'd see the day. I should mark it on the calendar."

Jason rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. "The Mom's page, Babybird. The _Mom's_ page."

Tim snickered under his breath. "Oh my gosh. How is he even a real person?"

"I don't know. But he just told me. Said it straight up – no shame. The part of me that's not planning to make fun of him for the rest of our lives admires him for it."

"It's incredible. But we're definitely making fun of him for it."

"Oh, no, definitely. I'm actually thinking that we should do this later. Like… Mother's Day."

Tim snorted into his coffee.

( _Jason, I'll never tell you this to your face, but you're a genius_.)

"Finally decided to do the world a favor and choke to your death, Drake?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Actually, Demon…" he railed off, taking in the expression on Jason's face. He looked like he'd just seen heaven. Or found out that Bruce was willing to let him kill the Joker. Okay, maybe not that happy, but close.

Tim looked over his shoulder at Damian and snorted again. He put down his coffee and grinned at Cass, who was standing behind Damian.

"Cass. You're an angel."

She smiled. "Dick told me to."

"What are you on about?" Damian grumbled, shifting his backpack stiffly.

Which was actually impressive, because Tim wouldn't have guessed that Damian could move at all just looking at him.

Tim turned to Jason, but he was already taking pictures. "Bless you."

Jason grinned. "Look at you, Babybat!"

Jason was cooing.

( _Thank Talia for Jason_.)

Damian gnashed his teeth, but aborted his lunge when he realized how limited his mobility was.

"You're adorable!" Tim laughed.

And he actually was. If Tim didn't know Damian, he'd probably think he was an angel child, all wrapped up in a horrific amount of shirts and coats with earmuffs and mittens and a hat with _pompoms._

"Shut up, Drake!"

Damian looked like he was going to murder him in his sleep. But he was also blushing, and Jason was still taking pictures, so Tim figured it was worth it.

"Jason, I'm sorry. But Dick is now my favorite brother."

"He wasn't always?"

Tim shrugged vaguely. "Well, he is now. But you're a close second because you're taking pictures."

Damian growled. "Where is Pennyworth? I don't want to be around you two idiots any longer."

"Don't be mad just because Tim likes me better than you."

The look on Damian's face was priceless.

"You did get that, didn't you, Jason?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. And I'm sending that to everyone I know."

Cass rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Alfred is in the car."

Damian sniffed and nodded. "Thank you, Cain."

He shot his brothers a glare, but they ignored him.

"Try not to get called to the office, brat."

"Try not to crash in the middle of a board meeting, idiot."

"Aww. So nice to know you care."

Cass shook her head. "Come on."

Tim and Jason watched as she herded Damian out of the room. Literally. Because he was having a difficult time walking unassisted.

"Cass! How could you? How could she not warn me that I needed to record that? I only have pictures…"

Tim snorted and patted Jason's shoulder. "Look on the bright side: you can't put a video in the blackmail scrapbook."

* * *

Damian woke up with a pounding headache that he successfully ignored until the coughing kicked in. That was followed quickly by achiness and tremors worse than anything his training ever made him feel.

He cursed his immune system. He wasn't Drake. He wasn't supposed to feel this weak. He bared his teeth at the ceiling and cursed his classmates and the public school system in general.

When he got to class, he would have his revenge on every last one of them. It was the only course of action considering he was unsure as to which of the idiots had passed this malady to him.

He groaned as he forced himself out of his bed, bracing himself against the wall as the world spun around him. He gritted his teeth and took a breath.

( _All of that clothing was useless. I thought it was supposed to prevent this from occurring.)_

He would be having words with Grayson and Cain. As soon as he made it out of his room.

"Master Damian?"

Damian startled and looked up, groaning again. How had he not heard Pennyworth come in? This sickness was hindering his senses.

"Pennyworth," he managed, grimacing. He sounded terrible.

"Oh my. It seems as though you're quite sick."

Damian scowled. "The fault of those fools at my school, undoubtedly. I insist on filing a complaint with the administration once we arrive at-"

Damian coughed harshly, shudders racking his body. He could feel his eyes tearing up involuntarily, and his throat was practically raw. He swayed on his feet, resting more of his weight against the wall once he had stopped coughing.

"Once we arrive at school," he finished hoarsely.

Pennyworth huffed slightly and walked over to him. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Master Damian. You won't be going in to school today."

Damian scowled. "What?"

"You're ill. You will be staying home."

"Tt. I won't let a sickness keep me from my responsibilities, Pennyworth."

"Ah. I wasn't aware that you cared so much."

Damian blinked, shaking his head. He regretted it instantly. "I don't. But I doubt Father-"

"Master Bruce would not allow you out of the house in this state. Nor will I. Back to bed, Master Damian. I shall call the school immediately."

Damian wanted to protest. He didn't have to go to school just because he was sick? He had to go every other day, even though he hated it. What sense did that make? And he wanted to be there today, if only to impart his wrath upon his unsuspecting classmates.

He took a step forward, but his knees nearly buckled underneath him. "Very well, Pennyworth," he acquiesced grudgingly, if slightly relived. "I expect you shall pass my complaint on to the administration?"

"Naturally, Master Damian. Back to bed you go."

He shuffled the few steps to his bed and collapsed onto the mattress.

Damian decided that he hated being sick.

* * *

Cass poked her head into her baby brother's room, huffing when she saw that he was still awake. She walked over to him, staring down at him once she reached his bedside.

"Cain," he said hoarsely.

He sounded bad.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Why would I sleep in the middle of the day?"

"It's morning. You're sick."

He glowered at her. She cocked her head thoughtfully and then walked to the other side of his bed, sitting down next to him.

"What are you doing, Cain?"

"Sitting. Until you go to sleep."

"Do you want to get sick, Cain?"

"Sleep and I'll leave."

He snarled weakly. "There was no reason to make me wear such an absurd number of layers yesterday."

"Dami. Sleep."

He grumbled under his breath, something about annoying older sisters. She smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He squawked, growling before breaking into a coughing fit.

"Goodnight, Dami."

"It's morning," he muttered.

But he closed his eyes, and, in a few minutes, his body started to relax and breathing began to even out. She counted that one as a win.

* * *

Tim stood outside of Damian's door hesitantly. He wasn't sure why Alfred had asked _him_ to bring Damian tea. Not that he didn't care, but he doubted that Damian wanted to see him. Or that he wanted Tim to see him when he was this sick.

Tim snorted and knocked on the door, grimacing in preparation.

"Enter."

He rolled his eyes and pushed open the door. "Thank you, your Highness."

"Drake!" he yelled.

Tim wasn't surprised at the yelling, but he did wince at how scratchy his brother's voice sounded. "Should you be up reading right now? I mean-"

It was only thanks to his training that he managed to dodge the book that Damian had thrown at him.

( _I told you, Alfred.)_

"Seriously?" he said, glaring. "I've got-"

He barley dodged the pillow Damian threw.

"Get out! Now!"

"Fine!" Tim replied turning on his heel and slamming the door shut.

He huffed and stared down at the teacup and saucer in his hands. He wasn't going back in there. What did he care if the brat sounded like he'd swallowed a power saw?

He stomped his way back to the kitchen, smiling at his sister. "Where's Alfred?"

"Dusting. What's wrong?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Demon's being himself. He threw a book and a pillow at me when I went into his room to bring his tea. Can you bring it to him?"

Cass stared at him, her head cocked. He arched an eyebrow in response, wondering what she was thinking – because it didn't look like she was looking at him.

"That's sweet," she mused, a smile breaking onto her face after a few minutes of contemplation.

He twisted his lips. "Sorry?"

"He's worried about you. He doesn't want you to get sick. Me neither, but it's worse for you."

Tim scoffed. "Right. That's funny. Do you mind?"

She shook her head. "You do it. Grab gloves. And a mask. He'll let you in."

"Is that a bet?"

She grinned. "You'll stop putting energy drinks in your coffee for two weeks."

"And you'll stop abducting me to go shopping with you and Steph. Two weeks. Take Jason or something."

Her smile didn't waver. He admired her confidence, but she definitely wasn't winning this one. Like Damian cared about that.

He knocked when he finally made his way back to Damian's door – after making a new cup of tea because the first one was lukewarm – and grabbing a face mask and a set of latex gloves.

"Enter."

Tim pushed the door open cautiously, peeking his head in first and then stepping fully into the room. "I see you retrieved your projectiles," he muttered dryly.

Damian turned to face him sharply, but faltered when he saw him. "What are you wearing, you imbecile?"

"Is that any way to talk to the person bringing you Alfred's tea?" Tim took another hesitant step into the room.

Damian snorted and turned back to his book. "I see you decided to account for your weakened immune system before entering my room. And here I was thinking you had a death wish. Shame."

( _I can't believe he can still talk like that as sick as he is_. _Hold on_.)

"Are you serious? I can't live without energy drinks!"

Damian wrinkled his nose, coughing slightly. "What are you on about, Drake?"

Tim couldn't believe Cass had been right. It honestly shouldn't be that surprising; she was always right. Still, it was difficult to comprehend the fact that Damian had chased him out of his room because he had been worried.

Tim smiled obnoxiously, though he knew Damian couldn't see it. It didn't seem to matter, because Damian started glaring at him suspiciously. Tim appreciated the uncanny ability Damian had to anticipate when he was about to be mocked.

"You were worried!" Tim crooned softly, moving over to Damian's bed and setting the tea on his nightstand. "Aww! Damian!"

Tim was pretty sure the flush on his face was more from embarrassment than the fever. It was adorable.

"Shut up, Drake! I wasn't worried!"

"You wouldn't let me come in until I was protected. How sweet! I didn't know you cared."

"Father, Grayson, and Pennyworth would be unhappy if you caught ill and died because you were so careless as to allow your spleen to be impaled!" he spat. "I won't have them blaming me when you eventually perish due to your increasingly lacking sense of self-preservation!"

Tim snickered, rolling his eyes and smirking. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me I think. One more thing to put on the calendar."

Damian growled and threw another pillow at him. Tim let it hit his face, not even bothering to move out of the way.

He laughed and turned around. "Drink your tea," he called, slipping out of the room and closing the door just in time to avoid what sounded like the book Damian had been reading.

"Shut up, Drake!"

( _That was so worth two weeks without energy drinks. I'll just add more espresso.)_

* * *

Jason barged into Damian's room not pausing in his stride even when Damian threw a pillow at him. "Is throwing pillows your new thing now? I feel like that might be slightly less effective than knives. But who am I to judge?"

The glare shot at him would have been intimidating, except it really wasn't.

"Alfred said your temperature is still in the 100s, huh? At least you've got your pets to keep you company. Should I bring up Bat-cow?"

Damian snorted and leaned back on his remaining pillows. "Don't be silly, Todd. Father said I'm not allowed to keep Bat-cow in the house."

Jason snorted at the pout on Damian's face. He wished he'd been there for that conversation.

"Yeah, whatever. I've got food and medicine – Alfie's orders."

"I don't need it."

Damian sneezed.

Jason held out the medicine cup, smirking at the way Damian pouted. "Alfred would have given you pills, but I reminded him that you're a small 10-year-old, so he decided on the syrup. Lucky I was there, right?"

"I hate you, Todd."

Jason snickered. "You know I'm lying right? He just gave this to me to bring to you."

Damian seemed slightly lost at that.

( _Probably sad he can't glare at anyone for this.)_

"Drink up, Babybat."

Damian curled his lip, eyeing the cough syrup the way he looked at lowlife thugs – an odd combination of disdain and determination that said, "You're pathetic and I'm going to destroy you one way or another."

"Don't fight the cough syrup, kid. It stains almost as bad as blood."

Damian snarled and snatched the cup from him, downing it like it was a shot. He didn't gag, likely through pure force of will.

"You're gonna' kill it when you turn 21; remind me to throw that party."

Damian rolled his eyes, coughing slightly. "You brought food."

Jason shifted the tray he was carrying to one hand and forced Damian's legs to the side so he had room to sit. He plopped onto the bed, ignoring the glower he was receiving and setting the tray on his lap.

"Alfred's soup, some saltine crackers, and a cup of water. You'll be better in no time."

Jason took a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and lifted it to Damian's mouth. "Say 'ah'."

"I will end you, Todd."

Jason chuckled and handed the tray to Damian. "You're in such a bad mood. Should I call Colin and have him come cheer you up."

"I hope you get sick."

"Really? You tell Cass to leave so she doesn't catch it, and make Tim come in wearing all but a hazmat suit-"

"It wasn't even close to a hazmat suit – and he did that himself."

"But you want me to catch it? I brought you soup. Where's the justice in that?"

"Do you want me to have Titus attack you?"

The dog perked up, looking at Damian in anticipation.

Jason snorted, patting Titus' neck and ruffling Damian's hair.

"Stop it, Todd! Stop that immediately!"

He smiled. "I'll grab some more tissue for you. Eat all of that, brat."

He grumbled under his breath, but began eating. "Give Pennyworth my thanks."

"None for me?"

"Shut up, Todd."

* * *

"Hello, Damian! Your favorite person has arrived!"

Steph grinned at the bland look Damian shoot her, walking over to his bed and petting Alfred and Titus.

"You're hardly my favorite person."

"Second favorite? Third?"

He stared at her. "Seventh."

She grinned, pinching his cheek and laughing as he swatted her away. "That's way better than I thought. I beat out Jason, right?"

"Yes."

"Sweet. Now scoot over."

"No."

She rolled her eyes and clambered over him, settling onto the other side of the bed and kicking her legs up to rest on Titus. She cooed at Alfred when he crawled into her lap and settled her bag on the bed.

"Lazy. Get your feet off my dog, Brown."

Steph grinned at him and settled more comfortable against the headboard. "I think I'm going to steal one of your pillows actually. You should just give one to me because I have no qualms about fighting a sick person."

Damian stared at her, lips pursed, nose red, and eyes squinted in what was probably a glare.

( _Adorable_.)

"You're incorrigible, Brown."

She laughed when he threw a pillow at her. "You have such great pillows, though. And I need lumbar support."

"The words coming out of your mouth are causing me second hand embarrassment. Shut up. Why are you here?"

"I thought I was supposed to shut up," she quipped, placing the pillow behind her back and grabbing her bag. She grinned triumphantly when she pulled out her laptop, opening it and setting it on Damian's lap. "There."

He stared at it blankly. "Is the point of this to show me the obsession you have with my sister?"

"Oh my- My screensaver is a picture of the two of us. Cass is my best friend; that's not weird. It's not an obsession. Besides, don't you keep a picture of Colin in your wallet?"

"Pennyworth, suffocate her."

Steph cackled, petting Alfred when he ignored Damian and settled deeper into her lap. "That's a bit touchy, isn't it?"

"What are you doing here, Brown?" Damian groused.

"No sense of humor," she muttered, reaching over and opening up her browser. "And I am here to provide you entertainment while you're bedridden. We're going to binge-watch all of Coast City Housewives."

"I can't believe you're making me watch this garbage."

Her grin widened. He hadn't even fought her on it; he was learning. "Would you rather we watch Metropolis?"

He gagged, horrified. "Are you trying to send me to Arkham?"

"Good choice."

* * *

Dick peeked his head into Damian's room, a smile lighting up his face when he saw that his little brother was awake.

"Hey, Little D!"

"Grayson."

Dick winced. "You don't sound too good."

He sniffed – or tried to. "Obviously not. I'm ill, Grayson."

"Yeah. Guess all the layers didn't really help," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dick wondered how Damian managed to look that haughty with snot nearly dripping from his nose. He walked over to the bed, grabbing some tissue from off of the nightstand. He cupped the back of Damian's head and put the tissue to his nose.

"Blow."

"I can do this myself, Grayson."

"Blow, Dami."

He complied, glaring the whole time. Dick just smiled down at him, grabbing another tissue and wiping his nose.

"There we go. Have you taken any medicine lately?"

"Pennyworth came up with some half an hour ago. You should wash your hands."

"In a little," Dick replied, walking over to the other side of the bed and getting in, cuddling up next to his brother.

"Don't blame me if you get sick, Grayson."

"I won't. Pinkie swear."

"Child," he grumbled.

Dick laughed, pulling Damian into his arms until they were both laying down. He pressed a kiss to Damian forehead and hummed lightly.

"Not too warm. That's good. I was worried you'd still have a fever."

Damian swatted at him half-heartedly. "I'm fine."

"Had to check in person, Little D. You know how it goes."

He could all but feel Damian rolling his eyes, but he didn't protest any further, so Dick figured it was just on principle.

"The trip over was okay," Dick began on a whim. "Usual stuff. I tried this new flavor of cereal – based on Diana, actually. It was pretty good. Better than the Batman flavor, which was just gross. Talked to Wally. Apparently, they're having a Flash Family reunion thing and getting all the food is a nightmare. Also, we're taking bets on whether or not Hal's gonna' crash the party, or if Barry's gonna' invite him. He thinks Hal's gonna' crash, but I don't think so. We'll see."

Damian was silent for a few beats before he sighed. "The point of that babbling, Grayson?"

Dick pouted before chuckling, holding Damian tighter. "Now, you're supposed to tell me about your day."

"I've been in bed all day, Grayson. Nothing happened."

"But I hear you've gotten visitors."

He scoffed. "Pennyworth stopped me from going to school in the morning."

"Bet you were happy about that."

"I intended to file a complaint with the school board. It's their fault for not taking the appropriate measures to prevent this from happening. I also planned to take revenge on my classmates. Being stuck here isn't conducive to either objective."

"I… don't know if that's how that works."

"It will be, as soon as I get back to that wretched place."

( _I'm not looking forward to that phone call.)_

"Hmm… what else?"

"Cain stopped by and forced me to sleep. Drake was next. I threw him out, but he came back with a face mask and gloves, so I figured if he was going to be that persistent I might as well let him bring me tea."

Dick smiled bemusedly, wondering if Damian actually thought he was buying that. It was adorable either way. And incredibly sweet. He knew better than to say anything, but he was definitely going to think it.

"Pennyworth brought my pets when he came again to check my temperature, and then he sent Todd. I hadn't been aware he stopped by."

"Yeah, he's still here, actually. I think he just wanted to see me."

"Not likely."

Dick snickered. "Did he mess with you too much?"

"Yes. He tried to feed me. Idiot. Pennyworth's soup was good; my sinuses were clear for a while."

( _Does he know that being fed is probably less embarrassing than having his nose wiped? He probably doesn't care.)_

"Aww!" Dick buried his face in Damian's hair with a grin. "That's so cute!"

"What is 'cute' exactly, about my sinuses being clear?"

"Everything."

"Tt. Whatever. Brown was next. She forced me to watch those disgusting reality television shows with her. Then she left. Pennyworth came up with medicine, and now you're here. There. Are you happy?"

"Very." Dick sighed, pulling down a pillow and moving it under his head.

It was a close fit with him, Damian, Titus, and Alfred, but that just made it cozier. Dick yawned, closing his eyes contentedly.

"What are you doing?" Damian asked, rolling onto his side to look at him.

"Taking a nap with my little brother! You need to sleep more anyway."

"Grayson."

( _So unimpressed. That's a little scary.)_

"Come on, Little D. You're sick. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"I wasn't aware you received an immunity to the flu once you'd had it."

Dick blinked. "Uh… no. You don't. But still! Just go to sleep."

"You're ridiculous."

He grinned. "Love you too."

"Shut up, Grayson."

* * *

Bruce raised an eyebrow as his youngest stumbled into the living room. He was only slightly unsteady, but he still shouldn't be up.

"Damian."

He suppressed a smirk when Damian stiffened and turned to him.

"Father…" Damian gaped at him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on patrol."

"I stayed in. What are you doing? Not going down to the Cave, I hope."

Damian's brow furrowed and he pursed his lips.

( _Obviously going down to the Cave_.)

"Come on."

Damian cocked an eyebrow. "What are we doing?"

Bruce smiled and walked over to Damian. He placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to the couch. "Sit down. We're going to watch a movie."

"But… you have to patrol."

"Gotham can survive without me for one night."

He didn't think he'd ever forget the smile on Damian's face.


	9. Christmas 1

**Title:** The Setup

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.

 **Note:** This was inspired by the amazing _I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa_ _Claus_ by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.

Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.

* * *

"All right, class! There's only a little bit of time left in the last day of school before break, so we're going to do something fun."

Damian scowled as Andrews handed a stack of paper to each of them in the front row. He took one and passed the rest back, cocking an eyebrow at the design on the sheet in front of him. It was pointlessly decorative.

( _How exactly is this supposed to be fun_?)

"Everyone have one? Good. Now, today, we're going to write letters to Santa! Tell him what you want and then you'll give the letters to your parents to send to the North Pole. Santa's elves will make your gifts, and then, on Christmas Eve, when he's delivering gifts to everyone, he'll make a stop in Gotham and bring your gifts to you! But only if you're good"

Damian was stunned at the cheers from his classmates. He'd heard Grayson mention this "Santa Claus" a number of times in the past few weeks, but only in passing. Damian had figured that Grayson was talking about some sort of tradition that accompanied the useless decorating and singing that Grayson had been subjecting them to. But this? He should have been paying more attention, but it'd become a habit to tune Grayson out whenever he mentioned anything about Christmas; he could go on for hours.

"What?" he asked sharply.

Andrews' turned to him hesitantly. "Yes, Damian? Is there a problem?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Yes, there's problem. How exactly can this _Santa Claus_ use _elves_ to make the things I want? If I asked for an 18th century katana from Japan in pristine condition, it would be nothing more than a forgery."

She cleared her throat. "Umm… well, Damian, Santa can do anything. Right, kids?"

The widespread affirmative from his classmates was nauseating.

"Anything?" Damian questioned, leaning forward in his seat and cocking an eyebrow. "Even if he could manage to have one made without it being a forgery – an impossible feat – what's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yes, Andrews. Or are you naïve enough to believe that a stranger would give you everything you asked for without an ulterior motive? Is he doing this to place me in his debt? Does he plan to extort or blackmail me in the future? Or to gain my loyalty and gratitude in order to use me? Or perhaps these gifts he's giving are secretly mind-control devices that he intends to activate in order to enslave the human race?"

She gaped at him, and the rest of the class was silent. Damian snorted and leaned back. Obviously, they'd never taken the time to consider this before.

( _Fools. It's amazing they're still alive_.)

"Damian!" Andrews exclaimed. "No! That's not- Santa… is a good person. He delivers things because he cares."

"Oh, really?" Damian replied coolly. "A good person? You don't think he has any ulterior motives? At the very least, you should question the logistics. How does one man deliver presents to _everyone_? That Is what you said, isn't it? That he delivers presents to everyone? How exactly does he accomplish that? Earth's population exceeds 7 billion. How does he manage to do all of this on Christmas Eve? And how does he get into people houses? Breaking and entering, correct? He breaks into people's houses and leaves suspicious objects – but he hasn't been arrested? Has he been vetted? Has any organization provided a background check on Claus? Well?"

His classmates looked confused and wary, which was a natural reaction considering they had previously been unaware of the danger this man presented. But Andrews just looked shocked. Perhaps it was because she was older; after so many years of placing her unquestioning trust in this man, it was natural that she was more hesitant to accept what Damian was saying.

"Damian," she began weakly.

"No, Andrews. It's foolish to imagine that this man doesn't mean any harm. Besides, you did say he had… elves, didn't you? The number of elves needed in order to make presents for every person in the world in would be enormous. And he keeps them all at his base – the North Pole? Keeping that many individuals in such a small geographical area likely leads to disease. Not to mention the sort of working quarters they must have. And the hours they'd have to work. I'd imagine it would be comparable to sweatshops – only worse. And do these elves have a choice in the matter? Are they indentures servants – slaves?"

"I- I… No, the elves-"

"And what about me? You said that he delivers presents to everyone. But, when I was living with my mother, I never heard of this Santa Claus. And he never delivered a single present to me."

Not that it was surprising, when he considered it. Transgressing on Ra's a Ghul's territory would have meant death. Unless he simply didn't deliver presents because they were assassins.

"And you said that he only delivers presents to people who are 'good'. What does that mean? How does he determine who's good when he spends all of Christmas Eve breaking the law? It's hypocritical. And how would he know if people were good or bad to begin with? Is he stalking people? Does he spend the rest of the year illegally monitoring the actions of every denizen on earth? And beyond? Is it just earth? Or does he deliver presents to the inhabitants of other worlds? Is it localized to our planet because he's planning a hostile takeover? How did you learn of this Santa Claus anyway? Where did he come from? Do you know anything about him other than that he claims to be a benevolent soul who "rewards" good people and ignores bad people? Or have you been wallowing in ignorance your whole life, content to believe that Claus is good and not looking past the surface?"

He stared at her challenging, but she didn't respond. Not that he expected her to. He'd just ripped her beliefs apart. She'd need time to recover.

Damian turned to his classmates, who all appeared horrified, some even on the verge of tears. "This is likely hard for you all, but you have to inform your parents of the dangers of allowing this man his freedom. Tell them to increase security and strengthen the perimeters of your homes. It's unlikely that you'll be able to keep him out, but you should try, regardless."

The bell rang then, and Damian frowned. He was unsure if any of them had processed his warning, but it was too late now. He stood deliberately, grabbing his things and walking up to his teacher.

"Andrews. I know this is hard for you to believe, but take this to heart. Now that you know the truth, things might be different for you. It's likely that his influence was behind your utter incompetence, and, now that you're free from him, I expect things will go much smoother in your life."

She let out a strangled sound, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Barricade your house as well, Andrews. Good luck."

Damian walked out of the class, brow furrowed in determination. He was going to capture Santa Claus and reveal his machinations to the world.

But first, he had to free his family.

* * *

Steph pushed open Damian's door carelessly. "I hope you're decent!"

She grinned at the scowl he shot her.

"Brown."

"Dami! What are you doing in here? You're too young to be a moody teenager. Let's go watch trashy reality TV together."

She was sure he was going to scoff and then grudgingly agree, but an assessing gleam entered his eyes. She stepped back.

( _Abort.)_

"Actually, you know what-"

"Brown, come here," he demanded, closing his laptop.

She grinned weakly. "You know, I don't think-"

"It's important, Brown. It can't wait. We can watch as many of those stupid shows as you want later. I have to talk to you about something."

She stared at him. He was serious. And he didn't look like he was about to strangle her for "suggesting he defile himself by watching such crass television programs". She closed the door and stepped into his room fully, walking over to sit in front of him on his bed.

"What is it?"

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, eyeing her gravely. "I had intended to create a slideshow presentation and address everyone, but perhaps it's better to do this one at a time."

"Do what? Dami, what's wrong?"

"Everything."

She swallowed thickly. "Damian?"

"But, it all comes down to Santa Claus."

"…"

( _Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.)_

Steph forced herself to breathe and opened her eyes. She didn't even remember closing them.

"Damian… what exactly is the problem with… Santa Claus?"

How had that come out of her mouth? Her acting skills were obviously getting better. As was her self-control.

Damian sighed, pursing his lips. "Today in class, Andrews was talking about Santa Claus. And, Brown, I know this will be hard for you to hear, but… you need to know that Santa Claus is not who you think he is."

"He's not?" she asked, her voice strained with the effort of not laughing.

He was taking Santa Claus so seriously; it was hilarious.

"No. Santa Claus is a criminal."

He was looking at her like he was expecting her to cry or something. Steph stared at him, her mind racing.

( _Okay, how am I going to play this? This is an excellent opportunity. I can't let it go to waste. Think. Think. Oh_!)

"And… how do you know this, exactly?"

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he leaned forward. "Logic and research. The elves are his slaves – likely not elves and instead aliens who he's captured and forced into hard labor. He stalks every person on the planet all year long and then breaks into their houses on one night, leaving suspicious objects – likely intended to manipulate his victims and force them into his thrall. A subtle magic. And it's obvious he has magic; I'm surprised I haven't heard of him before, given how powerful he obviously is. My research also shows that he's a shapeshifter and a sadist, who goes by different names depending on the culture. From what I've gathered, many people assume he is a myth, and most others assume he is benevolent. The truth is that he's hell-bent on taking over the world and setting himself up as some sort of god to be worshipped – there are songs dedicated to him, Brown! He's a violent, depraved psychopath who needs to be brought to justice."

He stared at her intently. She stared back.

How was she supposed to respond to that? Damian was crazy, but it also made a strange sort of sense. Or, it would. If Santa were real.

The best course of action - the only course available – was to play this up.

Steph swallowed and nodded. "I… wow. That… Damian, that makes a lot of sense. What do we do?"

He smiled at her slightly, and it almost made her feel bad that she was playing him. But this was going to be hilarious; the guilt didn't last long.

"I'm glad to see you believe me, Brown. And that you're taking this seriously. Claus is a big problem, and quite possibly the most dangerous criminal on the planet. Yet the Justice League hasn't' captured him, meaning even the most powerful people in the world are under his control – it might be passive right now, just preventing them from arresting him, but it could easily escalate into active mind control. We have to stop him. The first thing we have to do is convince the others that Claus is dangerous and needs to be apprehended. Then I'm sure Father can speak to the rest of the League. We should-"

"No, no, no!"

He scowled at her. "What?"

She bit her lip, racking her brain for an excuse. "I- um… don't you think it might be a bad idea to talk to Brue about it? Or Alfred? Or… Dick?"

His scowl became more pronounced. "We can't just leave them under his control!"

"No, I know! But, maybe, we should work on capturing him first? Like, um… If he really is as powerful as we think, he'd probably just retaliate if we tried to remove Batman from his influence. Not to mention, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick have… been under his control a lot longer. It might be harder to remove them from it. It would be better if we have proof."

He pouted, but nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. When I told my class, Andrews seemed most resistant to the truth."

She bit back a laugh. "You told your class that Santa was a criminal?"

"Tt. Obviously. As Robin, it' my duty to do everything in my power to save people. Claus is a threat; I couldn't leave them uniformed."

"Damian, I'm so proud of you."

"Don't cry over it," he muttered, looking away from her.

She was actually trying not to laugh, but it was better he thought that. "Yeah. Sorry. Um… how about I bring the other three around, okay? I'll talk to them about it, and you can make a plan."

He nodded. "It might take a while. We'll have to be careful, given all he's accomplished so far."

She nodded seriously and stood up. "Of course. I'll go talk to them now. Thanks for telling me, Damian."

He sniffed. "Of course, Brown. You're an idiot, but that doesn't mean I want you under Claus' control."

She grinned. "Nice to know you care."

"Shut up!"

* * *

Cass looked up when Steph burst into her room, laughing maniacally.

"Cass! Damian thinks Santa Claus is a vicious criminal that needs to be stopped and that he's influencing everyone in the world and I want him to believe this all through Christmas. We're not telling Alfred, Bruce, or Dick, but he's trusting me to bring you, Jason, and Tim around. Please?"

Cass blinked, processing everything she'd said. "That sounds fun."

Steph grinned. "It will be."

* * *

"Thanks for the help," Jason grunted, holstering his guns and turning to Steph and Cass.

He blinked in confusion when Cass stepped up to him and stopped just a few inches away. It was mildly disconcerting considering she was in full costume.

"Uhh… I haven't done anything, have I?"

"Help us."

Jason raised an eyebrow, not that she could see it, but she could probably read his confusion in his posture. He looked around at the unconscious thugs on the ground and turned back to his sister.

"Help with what?"

Steph bounced over to them. "Robin's helping us prank him."

Jason stared.

Cass shook her head. "Too confusing."

"Right. Wanna' play a prank on Robin?"

"A Christmas prank," Cass added.

Jason, was, admittedly, still confused. "Definitely. When?"

"Soon."

"We'll fill you in on the rest later. We just needed you to agree. I have to tell him that you believe Santa is a criminal."

A bark of laughter escaped Jason's throat. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Jason grinned and swung an arm around each of their shoulders. "I'm so happy this is my life. Let's go beat up some lowlife goons and then you two can tell me about what sort of insanity Robin's cooked up this time."

( _Damian's the best younger brother. Sorry, Tim_.)

* * *

Tim walked into the kitchen, determinedly ignoring the way Steph, Cass, and Jason were looking at him. He had no idea what they were planning, but it was probably something stupid that was going to get them in trouble. He wanted no part in it.

"So, Timmy," Jason began.

Tim rolled his eyes, refilling his coffee cup half-way. Then he opened up his energy drink and poured it into the coffee, turning to Jason casually. "Yes, Jay-Jay?"

He scowled. "You're going to develop a heart condition."

Tim threw the can in the recycling bin and shrugged, grabbing a spoon. "Was that all?"

"Sit down, Timothy," Steph said, patting the stool next to her.

He sighed and took a seat at the table, as far away from the three of them as possible. He raised an eyebrow.

Steph rolled her eyes and snorted. "You're going to help us with our newest plan. You're the final piece of the puzzle."

 _(She's being purposefully cryptic.)_

"No, thank you."

"It's easy," Cass said.

"I've got things to do."

Jason leaned forward. "You want to mess with your little brother?"

Tim stood up and walked over to the stool next to Steph. "You should have led with that. What are we doing? Dying his costume pink? I'm all for dying his costume pink. I think I have the chemicals in my nightstand."

"I feel like you have an unhealthy enthusiasm for this," Jason said, grinning.

"Don't mock me, Jason. I'm allowed to enjoy my early Christmas present."

His brother snickered, turning to Cass and Steph. "Yeah, it's going to be awesome. Apparently, Damian is doing all the work for us. All we have to do is keep it running until Christmas."

"What does that mean?"

"Damian thinks Santa is evil," Cass murmured.

Tim blinked. He stirred his coffee, taking a sip. "This is because of school, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"I feel like I should write a note thanking Bruce for this. And the administration. And his teacher," he muttered, grinning at them. "He thinks Santa Claus is a criminal?"

"With evil mind controlling powers," Steph added.

"Oh. Oh, this is wonderful. Dick is going to be heartbroken."

"We're not telling him," Jason interjected.

"Obviously not," Tim scoffed. "He'd ruin everything. I'm just saying, if he knew."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Tim."

Tim smirked. "All right. Let's move on to the good stuff. Tell me everything."

Steph smiled, clapping her hands together. "Gladly."


	10. Christmas 2

**Title:** One Step Forward...?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Ra's al Ghul (mentioned).

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.

 **Note:** This was inspired by the amazing _I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa_ _Claus_ by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.

Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.

* * *

Steph cocked an eyebrow at the way Tim grinned at her.

"I know I'm amazing, but you don't have to assault me the second I step through the front door."

He rolled his eyes. "You need to head down to the Cave and find out what Damian's doing. Cass, Jason, and I have been _ordered_ to keep Dick, Bruce, and Alfred away until Damian's done with… whatever it is he's doing down there. I have no idea. He basically lectured us on the evils of Santa Claus and then mentioned something about justice before stalking to the Cave. It was like listening to B actually."

Steph grinned. "You actually listened?"

Tim scoffed. "Only for the prank."

She nudged his ribs playfully. "And you didn't want to be a part of it at first."

"I told you that you should have led with that. I never actually thought I'd have to say that _Jason_ knows how to convince me to listen better than you do."

She stuck her tongue out, shrugging his arm off of her shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going to go see what he's up to. I'll report back."

She saluted, laughing while she strode to the Cave.

( _What's he doing now?)_

"Dami?" she called, smiling when she saw him sitting at the computer.

He didn't turn to greet her, not that she was expecting him to.

"What's up?" she asked, leaning on the back of the chair and staring down at him.

"Brown, are you aware of the fact that the Watchtower doesn't have a Death Ray?"

Choking on air was not a pleasant experience. Granted, it was more pleasant than actually being choked, but still. Overall, unpleasant.

"Why would it have a Death Ray?!"

He scowled at her over his shoulder. "Emergencies, Brown. Obviously."

"What sort of emergency would warrant the use of a Death Ray?"

"This!" he said, pointing at the screen.

She massaged her temples. This was supposed to be funny, not stressful. "Okay. Start from the beginning."

He wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. "I've been trying to locate Santa Claus' base at the North Pole, but I am unable to. That means his technology is so advanced that our system is unable to find even a trace of his cloaking tech! Given the fact that it's impossible to obtain his exact coordinates, it has become necessary to resort to other measures."

"And those other measures," Steph said, "include a Death Ray?"

"Yes."

Steph stared at him blankly. "That… okay. No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"No!"

He sighed heavily – like he was the one having to deal with someone trying to destroy the North Pole.

"We would modify the settings of the Death Ray, Brown. It would be similar to an industrial sized Stun Ray. It would render Claus immobile wherever he is, allowing us time to scour the North Pole for the location of his base, render his tech inert, and take him into custody – all before he regains consciousness."

( _Industrial sized Stun Ray?_ )

She was torn between laughing and feeling utterly horrified. Not fun.

"Where would you even get a Death Ray to modify?

Damian shifted slightly. "I was going to contact my grandfather. I'm sure he's capable of procuring one for me. At the very least, Santa Claus also appears to be immortal. It makes sense to ask Grandfather if he knows of his whereabouts."

Damian was ruining this prank. That wasn't fair.

"Damian. You can't contact Ra's al Ghul to ask for Santa's location."

"Why not, Brown? It's for the good of all man-kind!"

"I- no. Hold on. Okay. Just… wait."

"For what?" he snapped.

"Backup!"

* * *

Steph was only a little bit surprised to find that all three of her cohorts had ganged up on Dick to prevent him from getting into the Cave. Dick looked puzzled and amused, but didn't seem to be giving up. Jason looked about 10 seconds from tackling him.

"Uh, Steph, a little help here?" Dick asked, backing up from Jason slightly. "I think there might be mind control involved."

Tim snorted, but Steph couldn't bring herself to find it funny.

"Yeah, okay. Guys, mission aborted."

Dick blinked, confusion obvious. "What?"

"Yeah," Jason said, turning to her with his hands on his hips. "What he said."

"Well, see, it was going to be funny, and we were going to let the prank last until Christmas, but now we have to end it and make Dick convince Damian that asking Ra's al Ghul for a Death Ray is a bad idea."

Cass cocked her head.

"Are you serious?"

"That's a joke right?"

"What is going on here?"

Steph turned to Dick, cringing slightly. She wasn't going to enjoy this.

"Well, you see, the 4 of us-"

"No way. This is on you."

"Jason, you were almost as excited about this as Tim!"

"That's right, let's blame it on Tim."

"Actually," she mused, "that's a great idea."

"Hey! If it's anyone's fault, it's Damian's. Back me up, Cass."

"Steph."

"Cass! You're my best friend! You're not supposed to blame me!"

"Okay! I feel like there's probably enough blame for all of you to share, but maybe we can get back to the part where Damian's trying to talk to his _grandfather_ about getting a _Death Ray_?"

Steph smiled, sheepishly. "Right. Okay, so, basically, Damian thinks that Santa Claus is evil and also has mind control powers and he wants to arrest him, but he can't find him at the North Pole and he figures that his only options are to ask Ra's if he knows Santa's location or if he can get him a Death Ray so that we can modify it into a Stun Ray – and I think he wants to attach it to the Watchtower and use it to cover the entire North Pole and then go on an expedition to find Santa before he regains consciousness?"

"I… this would be funny if he wasn't trying to contact Ra's," Tim said faintly.

Jason was choking on air; she was glad she wasn't the only one who did it.

Cass looked like she was about to escape, which seemed like a pretty good plan. Still.

( _Traitor.)_

Dick took a deep breath; they all looked at him.

"Steph."

"I know, I know! But it was just a prank. It wasn't supposed to go this far!"

He snorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't supposed to- ha! This is Damian, Steph! How did you think this was going to go?"

She gaped. "Okay. Fair point."

Dick threw his hands up in the air. "You know what – we're not done here. The four of you should have known better. But, right now, I have to go and convince him that this is a bad idea! And you're all coming with me."

"But-"

"Nope! You're coming. Let's go."

Steph cringed along with the others, but there wasn't any arguing with Dick when he got this way.

She sighed.

 _(It was supposed to be funny.)_

* * *

"Damian?"

Damian frowned as he turned around. Brown had brought all of them. _And Grayson._

"Brown! Why did you let him come?" he hissed.

She couldn't even bring backup without ruining the operation.

( _Unless she managed to convince him.)_

"Actually, Dami-"

"Did you tell him the truth? And he believed you?" Damian wasn't smiling – of course not – but it was a close thing.

He was relieved – understandably so. It was hard enough not being able to tell his father and Pennyworth about the situation, but leaving out Grayson as well?

It had been difficult.

"Well, it's not-"

"Good. Now we can move on. I've decided that asking for Claus' location first is the best course of action. And I don't see why Grandfather wouldn't know. But, in case he doesn't-"

"Damian!"

Damian frowned at his eldest brother, eyeing the others carefully. They were all standing behind Grayson, avoiding eye contact.

( _No.)_

"Damian," Grayson began softly. "There's no need to contact Ra's. Santa isn't bad, Damian. He's actually a good-"

"I can't believe this!" Damian shouted, standing from his seat and glaring at them. "You told him? Brown, you were the one who told me not to mention anything to him!"

She winced and smiled weakly. "Yeah, but… he's actually right, Damian."

His eyes widened, and he took a step back. "He has you back under his thrall!"

"What? No-"

"Damian, that is not what's happening here."

"Shut up, Grayson. That's exactly what's going on. But why?"

"No, Damian, it was a prank," Brown said.

The other nodded along stiffly. Damian grit his teeth.

"Listen, Little D. They were being idiots and playing a joke on you. Sort of. Santa isn't evil, all right? He brings people presents and doesn't have any mind control or cloaking abilities."

Damian narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he should do. He had managed to convince them of the truth only for them to fall back under Claus' control. Yet, there was no memory loss or relapse; they still acknowledged that he had convinced them and were now making excuses for why they had believed him.

This was the most sophisticated mind-control technique he had ever encountered.

He had no idea how to beat it.

And he had no idea why they had suddenly fallen under Claus' control again.

Could it have been a defense mechanism? Maybe…

( _I'm getting close!)_

Damian snarled. "He's increasing his hold on you because I'm getting close, isn't he?

"What? No!"

Grayson looked shocked – overly shocked. As though he were trying to convince Damian that his conclusions were off the mark. And the others were making odd, strangled sounds, like they couldn't process what was happening. Their reactions only served to further convince Damian of the accuracy of his assessment.

"Listen to me, Damian, you are not getting close. At all. Contacting Ra's will not help you find Santa!"

"You know, Dick," Drake began, "you sound really suspicious."

"Shut up, Tim! You're so not helping!"

Damian eyed them curiously, unsure how to proceed. He was obviously right – and Drake was playing to his natural paranoia in order to throw him off the scent. Clever. But Damian was much too intelligent for Santa Claus.

The best course of action would be to feign reluctant acceptance and retreat to his room where he could think things through without interruption.

( _How can I do it without raising their suspicions?)_

"Dami, look," Grayson pleaded. "Just… don't contact your grandfather. And let the whole evil Santa thing, go, okay? Santa's great! He gives presents and he's not creepy or trying to take over the world or anything, I promise. You trust me, right?"

Damian suppressed a smirk. Santa was playing right into his hands.

He forced a scowl. "Yes, Grayson, I trust you. But-"

"Then trust that I would never tell you anything that could hurt you."

Damian stared at Grayson, then nodded. "… Very well, Grayson. You had better not be wrong."

He smiled, relieved. "I'm not. Promise."

Damian sniffed, nodding shortly and stalking out of the Cave.

"I can't believe that worked," Todd muttered.

"Of course it did," Brown rejoined. "It's Dick."

Damian smiled grimly as he walked to his room.

Santa Claus was an idiot if he thought that he had managed to fool him. But Damian wouldn't fall for his manipulations. He was going to bring Santa Claus down one way or another. And he was going to make him pay for brainwashing his family.

And for trying to use Grayson against him.

When Damian got finished with Claus, the man would be wishing that Damian had simply decided to use a Death Ray to take him out.

* * *

Damian sat at his desk, his notebook laid out in front of him. He needed to organize his thoughts. He no longer had any allies in the house, and it wasn't worth the hassle to converting anyone over to his side again; that would only serve to tip them off, and likely push Claus into making them keep a closer eye on him.

That wouldn't do.

He had to look at this from a different angle.

Damian grabbed his pencil, tapping the paper idly.

He could still contact his grandfather – not for the Death-Ray-Turned-Stun-Ray, but for Claus' location. It might be a fruitful endeavor, considering the mere suggestion had made Claus panic enough to resort to active mind control, but…

What if he was wrong?

What if his grandfather did indeed trust Claus?

It was possible. His grandfather had been alive for centuries, and Claus had been around for even longer. What if, when his grandfather was a child, Claus had delivered gifts to him? Then his grandfather could be under Claus' control.

But that wouldn't explain why Claus hadn't delivered gifts to Damian when he had still been with the League of Assassins. Unless, of course, his grandfather and Claus were in league together.

But then Damian would have heard of him by now, surely!

"Ugh!"

( _This is giving me a headache_.)

Okay, no contacting his grandfather – the whole thing was too complicated for him to sort out.

He just needed to write down the facts and go from there:

 **-** Santa Claus is evil and needs to be stopped

 **-** My allies have once again been lost to Claus' thrall

 **-** Claus thinks that I have given up on my pursuit of him

 **-** My grandfather is an unknown variable

 **-** I do not have the capabilities to locate Claus on my own

 **-** I need to locate Claus in order to move forward with my plan to capture and detain him

Damian set down his pencil and furrowed his brow. Currently, his most pressing problem was locating Santa Claus. But he didn't know how to get past his cloaking tech. As much as it pained him to admit it, he wasn't skilled enough to find Claus' base with just a general location.

Drake could probably do it, but there was no chance of securing his assistance now. And if he were to ask for advice on how to go about doing it on his own, his true plan would be discovered; Drake and the others were likely still on high alert.

But, there was someone else he could ask. Someone who wouldn't suspect his true intentions and report back to Santa Claus.

Damian smirked and grabbed his cellphone.

( _Thank goodness Grayson decided to preprogram my speed-dial._ )

"Hello? Damian?"

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Gordon. I require your expertise."

The silence on the other end was unnerving. Had Santa Claus set _all_ of his agents on alert?

"What can I do for you, Damian?" Gordon responded, her voice dry, but not distrustful.

His shoulders relaxed at her obvious ignorance. Waging a one-man war against an immortal, serial-criminal with mind control powers was more stressful than he had anticipated.

"You're skilled with computers, Gordon; I'd like for you to teach me how to locate someone. I have their general location, but I need to know how to find their exact coordinates when they're in possession of an advanced cloaking system."

"A cloaking system? Did Tim already try?"

"No. This is something I'm doing without the others' knowledge."

He wondered if that was saying too much.

"The others don't know? You haven't told them? Not even Dick or Bruce?"

"No."

"But you're calling me?"

Her incredulity wasn't unfounded, but it still made him groan. He didn't have time for this.

"Yes, Gordon. And I would appreciate your discretion."

"…Right. Well, cloaking systems normally give off a distinct energy signature. Not that I'm saying that the signature is the same for all cloaking systems, but it's distinctive enough that if you're looking for it, it'll show up as a discrepancy or irregularity."

"And if it's so advanced that it doesn't give off such a signature?"

"Well, if it's not showing up at all, it's more than likely that there _isn't_ a cloaking device in the area you're looking at. Did you already try this out? Maybe you have the wrong location."

"Tt," Damian gritted his teeth. "Of course. Call back if you're capable of giving any useful advice, Gordon."

Damian hung up and glared at his phone in distaste. He should have expected Claus to have safeguards in place to prevent anyone from giving out information that could lead to the discovery of his compound in the North Pole.

He banged his fist on the table.

Santa Claus was five steps ahead of him; he had no idea how he was supposed to find him. But Damian wasn't going to give up.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Damian would have Santa Claus in his custody. He wouldn't settle for anything less.

Claus wasn't going to spend another year committing crimes with impunity.

Damian wouldn't allow it.

* * *

Dick stared blankly at his phone.

"You all right, Dickiebird?" Jason asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "You look like you just got a call from Damian's school or something."

Tim peered at him over his coffee mug. "That's a disturbingly accurate description."

Dick's expression didn't change when he looked at them. He wasn't sure he had it in him to bother with expressions right now.

"That was Barbara. She was calling to tell me that she just got off the phone with Damian. Apparently, he wants to know how to find someone if he has their general location, but their actual base is hidden by a cloaking device. And he doesn't want any of us to know what he's up to. That's not suspicious at all, right."

Tim had the decency the look sheepish. Jason just snorted.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised it didn't work. He was pretty adamant about the whole Santa thing."

"No thanks to you!"

( _Oh, look. I still have the energy to raise my voice_.)

"We didn't think he would try to call Ra's, Dick."

Dick sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's not about Ra's, Tim. …Okay. It's a little bit about Ra's. But it's mostly about the fact that Damian is a little kid and he's never actually had a real Christmas and you guys let him think Santa was evil when he came to you about it! You could have told him the truth and he might have believed you if you hadn't entertained him. Now it's too late!"

"Hey!" Jason said, frowning. "Blame Steph for that. We only got on board after."

Dick looked at him. "You guys need to be more responsible with him! I'm not going to stop you from messing with – I couldn't even if I wanted. But it's Christmas! He doesn't need bad memories of Christmas, you guys!"

Tim winced slightly. "Yeah, we know."

Tim elbowed Jason when he opened his mouth.

"Babybird's right. We'll make sure not to let him entertain any more fantasies about mythological creatures being evil and trying to take over the world. Promise."

He groaned. That was probably the best he was going to get from them.

"So," Tim asked. "What are you going to do? I mean, he obviously didn't believe you if that phone call's anything to go by."

"Nothing. At least not right now. I'll make sure he doesn't contact Ra's, but I don't honestly think there's anything else I can do."

Jason nodded solemnly. "Makes sense. But, you know, since he's not giving up on this… we're definitely going to enjoy it. I mean, this is going to be hilarious."

Tim smothered a laugh. "Absolutely. Uh, I mean… we're not going to encourage him or anything."

"And we won't let him contact anyone dangerous," Jason affirmed.

"But we're totally going to enjoy this."

Dick rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. Maybe if he ignored them, they'd become more responsible brothers. It was unlikely, but talking to them obviously didn't help.

He stopped at Cass's room on the way to his own. He knocked on the door frame, peeking his head into the room.

Cass and Steph turned to look at him.

"Shame on you both," he said, walking away.

"Sorry," Cass called.

He shook his head at Steph's laughter.

His family was ruining Christmas.

( _This is so unfair_.)


	11. Christmas 3

**Title:** 200 or so Steps Back

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.

 **Note:** This was inspired by the amazing _I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa_ _Claus_ by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.

Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.

* * *

Damian heaved a sigh, crossing his arms and sneering at Grayson disdainfully.

Grayson ignored him.

He clapped his hands together and grinned, looking around at all of them. "All right, team-"

"Is this a mission?" Drake asked, arching an eyebrow, but not looking away from his cell phone.

"I feel like Christmas shopping really shouldn't be done in a 'team'. It would ruin the surprise factor," Brown said, smiling when Cain nodded along with her.

"What surprise? You do realize that no one is ever surprised when they get a gift in this family, right? It's always, 'I could tell by the weight and the shape of the package and the fact that you were the one who got it for me and you were in the room when I mentioned it that this is exactly what I wanted.'"

Drake looked up from his phone for the sole purpose of questioning Todd's sanity. _(A noble goal.)_ "What did you just say?" Drake asked, partly amused, mostly incredulous.

Todd snorted. "We're detectives. Surprises don't exist for us."

"And the reason you refused concision the first time around, Todd?"

"Shut it, brat."

"Seriously?" Grayson interrupted. "We're at the mall to shop for Christmas gifts and you guys are arguing? No Christmas spirit! Shame on all of you!"

Damian snorted and rolled his eyes. What was the point of "Christmas spirit" when the entire holiday was just a ruse to disguise the malevolent intentions of one of the most clever and psychotic criminals in history?

"All right," Grayson said, clapping his hands again. "We're all going to split up, buy gifts, and then meet back here in 3 hours?"

"I don't need that long," Drake protested. "I ordered most of my stuff online."

"Who needs 3 hours to shop for presents?" Todd groused.

"1 hour then?" Brown proposed.

"I need more time than that!" Grayson objected, throwing his hands in the air unnecessarily.

"2," Cain said. "That's enough."

Grayson sighed, shaking his head. "Organizing patrol isn't as hard as this," he muttered. "2 sounds good. You gonna' be all right on your own, Dami?"

Drake snickered under his breath; Damian shot him a glare.

"I'm more than capable of buying gifts in a shopping mall, Grayson."

"Yeah, but-"

"He's not gonna' shoplift, he's too mean to talk to strangers, and anyone who tries to kidnap him will either end up hospitalized due to excessive injuries or mental trauma. Demonbrat'll be fine, Dick. Let's just get this over with," Todd grumbled, slinging an arm around Grayson's shoulders and smirking at Damian's scowl.

"Those… are all good points. All right, call if you need anything-"

"Freaking mother hen," Todd said.

"It's cute," Cain offered before slipping away with a wave.

"I'd say we should synchronize our watches, but we've already done that," Brown joked, jogging after Cain. "See you in two hours. Don't cause any chaos unless you get it on video!"

"Pairing up ruins the entire point of buying gifts separately," Drake sighed before shooting a look at Damian. "Which way are you going? I want to make sure to be on the opposite end of the mall."

"Like that would save you, Drake," Damian sneered, stomping off to the nearest escalator.

"Be safe!" Grayson called.

Damian rolled his eyes again and stepped onto the escalator. He froze as soon as he arrived at the second floor.

There, a mere 40 meters away, was the most dangerous man on the planet.

"Claus," Damian growled.

How dare he? Was he here to mock him? Rub it in his face that he had his entire family bent to his will? Claus didn't even care that he was revealing himself – and why would he? The masses were surrounding him: children cheering at his presence, parents facilitating their kids' devotion.

Damian gritted his teeth and stalked forward, determined to confront Santa Claus regardless of the consequences – only to be stopped when a woman stepped in front of him. A woman in striped tights, a ridiculous dress, and curved shoes with bells.

 _(What?)_

Damian stared at her blankly. The smile she gave him was nauseating. The way she crouched down to speak to him… that just made him angry.

"Hey there, little guy," she said, voice saccharine, smile – somehow – growing.

Damian's whole body twitched.

"Are you here to see Santa?

He forced himself to remain calm, clenching his fists and straightening his back. "I am," he forced out.

"Is anyone here with you?"

"They're shopping; they know where I am," he lied. If they knew where he was, they would undoubtedly force him away - a defense mechanism implanted by Claus. Unless, of course, the whole purpose of Claus' presence here was to enable the two of them to speak in person.

"All right, then. Why don't you get in line? Then you can sit on Santa's lap and tell him all about what you want for Christmas!"

Damian felt a little sick. He pushed the feeling down and looked past the woman at the line in front of them. _2 hour wait time at this point._ He wanted to smash that sign.

He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. Fine. If that was how Claus wanted to play it, he would wait. He would wait, and then, Claus would realize the error he had made in standing against him – mocking him with this cavalier display – and manipulating his family.

"That sounds perfect," Damian said quietly, grinning at the woman.

 _(Claus won't know what hit him.)_

* * *

Jason snickered at the boxes Tim was carrying. "Pre-wrapped? Sucker."

The look on his little brother's face was far from impressed, but why would Jason want to impress a guy who had his presents _professionally wrapped_?

"That is kind of a travesty of Christmas, Timmy," Dick said, grinning slightly.

Tim huffed. "You don't get to talk when you waited a week before Christmas to even _start_ shopping," he said, gesturing to the bags in Dick's hands.

Jason cocked his head considering. There really were a lot.

"That's the fun of Christmas, Tim! Gifts are always better when you buy them at the last minute!"

"Or, you're just a disorganized procrastinator."

Dick's grin only grew. "Don't knock it till you've tried it."

Tim's expression went bland. "I've tried it."

Jason and Dick exchanged a look before turning back to Tim.

"Why does that sound less like 'I procrastinated on buying gifts and it went horribly' and more like 'I procrastinated at life and wound up in a downward spiral of despair that I've yet to escape from'?" Dick asked, lips quirked in a mix of amused pleasure and worried dread that only Tim was capable causing.

Tim shifted his gifts more securely in his hold and took a long sip of his coffee – because of course he'd stopped for coffee – purposefully maintaining eye contact.

 _(Isn't Dick supposed to be the dramatic one?)_

"Hey!"

Jason gave a careless wave as Steph and Cass approached them. "Something is wrong with Tim."

"Bit slow on the uptake, Jace," Steph said, grinning.

Jason smirked. " _I'm_ slow?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Am I the only one that remembers what happened on April Fool's Day?"

Tim smirked. "No, I remember."

Steph threw her head back with a groan. "Oh my gosh! Can we let that go? Let's make fun of Dick's horrible fashion sense instead."

"It is pretty bad," Tim agreed.

"Hey!" Dick cried.

They ignored him.

Jason scoffed. "You think it was bad? I had to live through that. Firsthand experience."

"I was there too, you know? I think _that_ is the true source of my trauma."

"It was awful," Steph commiserated.

"Excuse you! All of you!" If Dick's hands had been free, he probably would have thrown them in the air. This was really agitating him. Jason had to remember to bring this up more often. "I have the best fashion sense out of anyone in this family!"

"Lie."

"You're lying."

"Liar."

"Where's Damian?"

All four of them turned to Cass, and Jason could practically feel the tension rush into Dick.

"Hey," Jason began, trying to head off Dick's panic before it began. Pointless, but Tim was just standing there rolling his eyes, and Steph was just shrugging. ( _They're no help. This should not be my responsibility.)_ "I'm sure the brat's fine."

"Jason's right – for once. He's probably just picking out gifts still; you know Demon gets… perfectionistic."

Steph joined in on the same vein, and even Cass looked unconcerned, if curious, but Jason was starting to wonder if maybe Dick wasn't right to be worried. Or, not worried for the reasons Dick was worried – Damian jumped across rooftops and kicked 250-pound men in the face on a nightly basis; there was no reason to worry about his safety in a _shopping mall_ – but for other, much more rational reasons.

He'd just told Dick that everything was fine, but that was before he'd caught sight of two kids pulling their – obviously – harried mother in the direction of the escalator, both of their mouths forming the word "Santa" over and over again.

They were in the mall.

It was the holiday season.

There were decorations everywhere.

And, up the escalator, some poor sap was being forced to dress in a beard and red suit and ask children what they wanted for Christmas.

Jason pulled his thoughts together and broke out into a wide, likely less than sane, grin.

( _This is the best day of my life!)_

"Uh…" Dick's concerned voice brought him back to reality. "Little Wing? You okay?"

"'Okay'? Dick, I'm perfect. Beyond perfect. There's no need to be worried – well, you might want to worry, but I'm not going to. Because this is a _gift_."

"I should have booked you a therapy appointment for Christmas," Tim said, staring at him dubiously.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Do you know what today is?"

"The 18th," Cass offered.

"International Migrants' Day," Steph said, grinning.

"Does migrating back to the land of the living actually count?" Tim muttered idly.

"Jerk," Jason responded.

"How do you know that?" Dick asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"My calendar is really informative."

"Okay. Will you all shut up?"

"Only because you asked, Jason," Tim drawled.

"You're going to apologize for giving me so much attitude when I tell you that Santa is on the 2nd floor fueling the capitalist spirit and making children's dreams come true," Jason said with a smirk, pointing the escalator.

It didn't matter that the space around them was bustling with activity – you could have heard a pin drop.

Tim's expression was solemn. "I love you and I will never doubt you again."

Jason completely believed him.

"Is this a drill?" Steph asked, eyes sparkling, voice lowered to a whisper.

"No. No it isn't."

"Dick is hyperventilating."

"Way to ruin the moment, Cass."

"Dick's fault."

"Agreed." Jason walked over to his older brother, who looked less like he was hyperventilating and more like he'd forgotten how to breath entirely. He swung an arm around his shoulder and started walking, the rest of them following behind him – though Steph looked like she was dying to run ahead. "Why don't we go see if Babybat's broken the no kill rule."

Dick let out a strangled sound; it was painful to witness. "You're all going to hell."

"No arguments here."

"Sounds like a nice break," Tim added.

"Is that- do you hear screaming?" Steph asked urgently.

They all paused.

"AHHHHHHHH! GET HIM OFF ME! GET HIM OFF! AHHHHHHHH!"

All five of them broke into a run, pushing their way past everyone on the escalator, but coming up short once they finally reached the second floor.

And how else could they react to the sight of their youngest brother choking "Santa Claus" by his fake beard?

Jason was the first to regain movement, startling into action and pulling his phone out. This needed to be recorded. Priorities.

( _And Damian continues to earn his place as my favorite sibling. Maybe even favorite family member at this point. Sorry, Alfred.)_

He pushed through the panicking crowd to get closer to the scene, grinning once he reached a good vantage point.

"Now, Imposter," Damian spat, one hand pulling at the fake beard and another fisting into the collar of the man's coat. "Why don't you tell me where the _real_ Santa Claus is? Huh? ANSWER ME!"

Jason stifled his laughter in an attempt to keep the camera steady.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about Please, just-"

"STOP LYING! If he trusts you enough to send you to confront me in a fake suit, you're obviously close enough to know the truth! And don't think I'll fall for any lies!"

"I swear I don't-"

"SHUT UP! The next words out of your mouth had better be the truth or I'LL BEAT IT OUT OF YOU!"

There was a moment of unintelligible mumbling, during which, Jason caught sight of Cass and Steph trying not to laugh while talking down the security guards.

"SANTA CLAUS ISN'T REAL, ALL RIGHT!"

Silence fell abruptly.

( _Is this karma for persistently helping save the world? I deserve this. This is my reward.)_

The overwhelming cries from every child in the area were startling, but not unexpected.

Tim sidled up to him. "You're going to send this to me, right? Everyone I know needs to see this."

"Dude, I will send this to all the Titans myself if you want. I'll even send this to Clark!"

" _Thank you_ ," Tim breathed.

"LIAR! YOU'RE JUST TRING TO SAVE YOUR OWN SKIN, YOU FILTHY CRETIN! TELL ME WHERE CLAUS IS! NOW!"

"He's completely feral!" Tim sounded ecstatic.

Jason couldn't blame him.

Damian was just about to start punching, and Jason was beginning to wonder if maybe they should do something – the guy _was_ innocent, after all. But Dick beat them to it.

Coming out of his apparent stasis, Dick rushed forward and pulled Damian off of the man before the first hit could land.

"Grayson, let me go! I know Claus has you under his control, but you have to trust me! This is for the good of mankind!"

Tim leaned into him, unable to stand on his own anymore. "This is the best day of my life."

"I know, Tim. I know."

* * *

"You guys are so lucky you're Waynes," Steph said, straining her seatbelt to lean forward.

Dick had no response. Primarily because it was true. The only reason no one had pressed charges was because they were Bruce Wayne's kids. If they hadn't been…

Honestly, Dick didn't want to think about what would have happened without Bruce's name behind them. He'd never been so grateful for preferential treatment.

( _How is this my life?)_

Dick sighed as they came to a red light. Time to have another talk with Damian. Another talk that would, more than likely, be completely pointless – and would do absolutely nothing to dissuade him from his opinion that Santa Claus was evil and had them all under mind control.

He had a headache. What he wouldn't give for Jason and the others to actually _care_ about the fact that Damian was young and impressionable and _Damian_.

Dick sighed again.

"Damian…"

Dick looked at Damian in the rearview mirror, frowning slightly at the set of his jaw and the scowl on his face and the tension in his shoulders.

There was no way – nothing he could say – to make this better. Nothing. He wished…

He wished that the others were taking this seriously. Because Steph was grinning, and Jason and Tim had their heads bent together over Jason's phone – probably sending the video Jason had shot to every single individual in the caped community. Cass, at least, looked like she wasn't about to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Not that that was good enough. He wanted guilt and actual emotional pain. Because that's what he was feeling – and he hadn't even been behind this.

( _I just wanted to have a nice Christmas.)_

"Damian," he started again.

And stopped again.

Because what could he say?

If he lectured Damian on beating up an innocent man, it wouldn't stick. Because Damian _wouldn't_ beat up an innocent man. And, in his mind, he hadn't. As far as Damian was concerned, he'd attacked a criminal in an effort to gain information on a much worse criminal. So, all Damian would think was that Dick was under Santa's mind control.

And there was no way to convince Damian that Santa wasn't a criminal. He got his stubbornness from Bruce, of course. A horrible trait to pass down.

So, what could he say?

Dick sighed. Again. "Damian. Santa is not an evil criminal mastermind," he said sadly, saying it just to get it out of the way.

"No, Grayson. We're not discussing this. I won't."

Dick could feel his shoulders slumping and his headache growing.

"You should stop trying, Dick. Don't you know the definition of insanity?"

"Thank you, Tim, for your valuable contribution to this conversation. Anything else you'd like to add? Maybe you want to say that the Easter Bunny is an evil alien trying to conquer the world and also Santa's rival?"

"The Easter Bunny? Who is that?" Damian spat, leaning forward with a calculating glare.

Jason, Tim, and Steph failed spectacularly at covering up their laughter. Cass shot him a look he couldn't take the time to decipher.

"No! Damian, the Easter Bunny…"

He couldn't say it. He felt like he was destroying Damian's childhood! Or… redestroying.

"Urban legend," Cass finished.

Dick sighed in relief – sighing, sighing, sighing. He was a smiler, not a sigher! Bruce was a sigher.

( _Ugh. I'm turning into my dad. Look what you did, Steph.)_

Damian eyed the two of them suspiciously, but sat back in his seat in grudging but genuine acceptance. He hoped.

"You didn't buy any presents," Dick pointed out, for lack of anything else to say.

"I'll figure something out."

"Am I the only one who thought that sounded ominous?" Steph asked.

"Please," Dick cut in, before Tim or Jason could speak up. "Just… let's not talk."

"Did Dick just ask us not to talk?" Jason questioned, eyebrow cocked derisively. "Dick?"

"First time for everything," Tim said with a shrug.

Dick whimpered. Cass patted his shoulder comfortingly.

He didn't feel any less like crying.


	12. Christmas 4

**Title:** Merry Christmas, Santa! (AKA Who's the Best Now, Claus?)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Titus, Alfred (the cat)

 **Note:** This was inspired by the amazing _I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa_ _Claus_ by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.

Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.

* * *

Dick sighed heavily, staring blankly at the elegantly decorated tree. He had done a wonderful job – well, to be fair, Alfred had done a wonderful job. But Dick had helped. The perfect tree didn't stop Dick from wishing that his siblings had decided to join them.

He'd asked. Of course, he'd asked.

(Hey, Little Wing-"

"I've got to go shoot someone or something.)

("Timmy, you wanna'-"

"Working.")

("Dami-"

"No.")

He hadn't even been able to find Cass – though he had a feeling that had more to do with Steph than Cass's personal willingness to help him decorate the tree.

Bruce had also been suspiciously missing. Or predictably.

Dick sighed.

( _Again, with the sighing! I really need to stop.)  
_

He shook his head and turned on his heel, walking away from the tree. He was done sulking. Really. He meant it. Today was Christmas Eve and tomorrow was Christmas and _everyone_ was going to enjoy it.

Even though Christmas was already completely ruined because his irresponsible younger siblings had decided that taking advantage of their really naïve, really intense, really _Damian_ youngest brother was the best thing to do because they were insensitive and _irresponsible_ and didn't care about the pure feelings of children on Christmas or about Dick's own well-meaning Christmas wishes because they were _insensitive_ and _irresponsible_ and _mean_ \- !

Dick closed his eyes, crossing his arms and breathing out through his nose.

( _Calm, Dick. Calm.)_

He shook his head and continued on his way through the house, heading into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks when he finally got there.

( _No. Way.)_

Dick was speechless.

Dick had never been speechless in his life.

But this…

Just… wow. Wow.

"Grayson, your grin is starting to become creepy. Stop it."

"Little D!" Dick exclaimed. "You're helping Alfred make cookies!"

Damian was, as always, unimpressed. "I'm aware."

Dick turned to Alfred, shocked, and awed, and so, so pleasantly surprised. "You're making cookies! Together. You and Damian! You're making Christmas cookies!"

"Indeed." Alfred was also unimpressed.

Which, fair.

But, come on. Damian was helping Alfred make cookies. This was like… Dick's dream come true. This was _Christmas._

No.

This was the best day of his life.

Dick whipped out his phone, snapping as many pictures as possible before Damian started glaring at the camera. (Quantity: 2).

Then he snapped a few more while Damian was doing that wordless snarl thing he normally reserved for criminals. Or Tim. Because, really. The only think more adorable than Damian blinking in shock while having pictures taken of him was Damian glaring while having pictures taken of him. While wearing an apron. And flour on his nose. Well, there was also Damian smiling. Or Damian willingly hugging anyone in the family, but beggars can't be choosers. (Quantity: 11).

"These are going to be great for the scrapbook."

Damian scowled. "I will steal your phone and delete those photos, Grayson."

Dick just smiled. Not that he doubted Damian, but Dick was already planning to send these to Barbara and have her make copies, so…

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and clapped his hands. "Christmas cookies! That, if I'm not mistaken, is a family affair. How about I join you?"

Damian was glaring at him, which – mean. Also – cute. It wasn't much of a deterrent.

Alfred on the other hand…

The pursed lips. The vaguely dubious "Hm". Not welcoming. At all. It was actually kind of hurtful, when he thought about it. He didn't want to think about it.

"No?" Dick asked hesitantly.

"You do remember the last time you helped make Christmas cookies, Master Richard?"

Dick grimaced slightly.

He did remember, actually. Kind of. Almost. He wished he didn't remember it at all; he'd clearly been repressing. And for good reason. Even now, he could only recall flashes of vomit, watery splatter with strange gunk mixed in, and fire. Not necessarily in that order.

"But that was a long time ago," he replied weakly.

"2 years ago, Master Richard. 2 years. I can still see the stains."

Dick followed Alfred's gaze to the ceiling. Yeah, okay. There was a single, half-inch diameter, discolored splotch on the ceiling, right above the island. Dick got the distinct feeling that Alfred had left it there in order to remind him of this moment the next time Dick stepped foot in the kitchen to make anything more than a sandwich or a bowl of cereal.

It was painfully effective.

Dick looked away from the stain only to notice Damian's intrigued gaze. Nope. Not going to relive _that_ any further.

"Actually, you know what? I think I have some gift wrapping to do. Gotta' get everything under the tree, you know. So…"

Alfred nodded approvingly, and Damian shrugged, but with a look in his eye that said he definitely wasn't going to let this go permanently.

( _Awesome.)_

Dick turned, preparing to not-retreat from the kitchen/site-of-nightmare-inducing-flashbacks, when he stopped.

He looked over his shoulder, pasting on a sheepish smile, glad that Damian had already gone back to stirring the contents of his bowl.

Pros of having a family full of highly trained super-detectives: someone always knew when something was wrong with you.

Cons of having a family full of highly trained super-detectives: someone always knew when something was wrong with you.

"Hey, Alfred, I was thinking about putting up some extra garland on the stair rail. Will you come look at it and tell me how much I should use?"

Damian snorted, but it was his derisive "you're being ridiculous; stop bringing shame on Father" snort, not his derisive "you're an idiot if you think you're getting away with fooling me; try harder and stop bringing shame on Father" snort.

Dick was in the clear.

Alfred nodded. "Of course, Master Richard."

Dick walked out into the next room and turned around, expression already horrified. "Alfred," he hissed quietly, "did you say anything about the cookies being for Santa?"

Alfred's expression was unreadable. "No. Though I think Master Damian will be smart enough to extrapolate that fact when I set the cookies out on the table next to the tree with a note."

The "as you asked me to at the beginning of the month" was unspoken, but heard. Loudly.

So was the "why?".

Dick stared at Alfred. Did Alfred really not know? Was that possible? For Alfred not to know something? Or was this a test? A chance at redemption? Was Dick supposed to come clean and reveal everything?

That was probably the responsible thing to do. He _should_ do it. Putting cookies out for Santa was just asking for another outburst from Damian. A loud one. In the house. Where Bruce could see.

But he couldn't. He couldn't tell Alfred. He just couldn't!

And who would expect him to? Really? It's not like it was even his fault.

And if that sounded a little irresponsible, Dick knew where he'd gotten that from. Jason, and Cass, and Steph, and Tim, all rubbing off on him.

He could just ask Alfred not to set cookies out…

But then there would be questions. _Alfred_ would ask questions.

Dick couldn't lie to Alfred!

Not when he was asking direct questions!

Alfred's expression was as patiently bland as ever when Dick finally made his decision. He forced a smile onto his face. It hurt.

"I want it to be a surprise!"

Alfred's raised eyebrow was slightly – okay, _really_ – judgmental, but it hadn't crossed into chastising territory, so Dick felt as good about his response as was possible at the moment.

So, not very good, but he dealt with relatively greater trauma on a semi-regular basis, so he was pretty sure he could pull through.

"Of course, Master Richard." Dry as the desert. More painful.

Dick nodded jerkily and then walked away.

This was probably going to be a disaster.

* * *

Bruce grumbled to himself as he walked down the stairs, sack of presents slung over his shoulder, fake beard scratching at his face.

He didn't know why he had let Dick convince him.

("Bruce, you have to!"

"Dick…"

"It's Christmas. And Dami! Dami deserves this! You know he does! You have to give him some piece of a normal childhood, Bruce, and you know he's never had that! Please, Bruce? For Damian?")

Ah, yes. Because his oldest son had somehow become an expert at guilting him into crazy stunts for the sake of his youngest son.

Still...

Dressing up like Santa so that the Manor security system could catch pictures of him for Dick to show to Damian?

Was there even a point when the cameras were high-resolution and Damian was smart enough to realize it was him?

Bruce was honestly starting to suspect that this was all some sort of ploy to get blackmail pictures of him.

He sighed heavily and scratched at the beard as he made his way into living room.

( _At least Alfred made cookies.)_

Bruce dropped the bag of presents and enjoyed the cookies Alfred had left him – only three. Bruce wondered if Alfred was trying to tell him something about his diet.

He grabbed the sack and took a step towards the tree.

And then he stopped.

Something… something didn't feel right.

( _A sedative? How?)_

Bruce didn't have time to work it out. He stumbled forwards, dropping the sack and struggling to maintain his balance. Not that it did him any good when he ended up caught in one of the simplest traps known to man, leaving him suspended upside down from the ceiling.

How hadn't he noticed?

( _…because I'm… at home… sedatives… never doing… anything for Dick… ever…)_

* * *

Damian snarled, viciously gleeful.

Finally.

 _(Finally!)_

Damian could hardly believe it had worked. He hadn't had much hope when he'd initially set the trap; Claus was an immortal supervillain. He had millennia of experience on Damian.

And magic.

But he'd set the trap anyway, hoping that Claus would be complacent enough, arrogant enough, not to take the necessary precautions when entering the Manor.

And it had paid off.

Not that it had been purely due to luck. Damian had planned meticulously.

Well…

It had been more of a spur of the moment thing.

He had walked into the kitchen and seen Pennyworth making _Christmas cookies._ The man hadn't said it, but Damian had known that the cookies were for Claus. In his research, he had come across the ritual: leaving cookies out for Santa Claus to eat.

The very thought had brought a sneer to Damian's face.

The greedy, egomaniacal narcissist wasn't satisfied with having nearly everyone on the planet under his thrall. He required them to give him offerings to support his petty god-complex.

Claus wasn't subtle; Damian couldn't believe that no one had worked out his criminal nature before now. Or, they might have, but none of them had been successful.

Until now.

When faced with the fact that even _Pennyworth_ worshiped Claus, Damian had almost given up. But then he had realized what a brilliant opportunity it was. All he had to do was offer to assist Pennyworth – an attempt to join in on the "Christmas spirit" as Grayson had insisted on calling it – and then lace the mixture with enough high-grade sedatives to take out one of the Flashes.

Pennyworth had been surprised, but he had been perfectly willing to let Damian assist him. That had given Damian more hope than he had had in his entire campaign; Claus couldn't tell what he was planning, which meant Damian had a chance.

Grayson had almost ruined things with his interference – Damian wouldn't have been able to slip the sedatives into the mix if Grayson had been watching – but Pennyworth had prevented Grayson from joining them.

 _And_ Grayson had given him the perfect opening to add the drugs into the cookie batter when he had taken Pennyworth out of the room to look at _garland._

It had been the perfect confluence of events.

And it had all worked out.

He had set a trap, drugged Claus' offering, and set an alarm to go off when he had finally caught Claus.

 _And he had!_

Now, he had the world's most dangerous criminal in his custody, and he could free his family from the man's clutches and prove to them that he had been right all along.

Damian slammed his door open and turned on the hall lights.

"Wake up! Get out of bed immediately! I've done it; I've caught Santa Claus! And you'll all see for yourselves who Claus really is!"

Damian ran through the Manor, banging on everyone's doors. He started heading downstairs, but turned back. He pushed open Drake's door and turned to Titus and Pennyworth, who had followed him out of his room.

"Get Drake," he commanded.

They obeyed immediately.

"Wh-gah! Damian!"

Damian smirked; he was very proud of his pets.

He prepared to continue downstairs, but stopped when Todd called out to him.

"Seriously, Babybat, what's the big deal?" Todd asked, running a hand through his hair as he ambled down the hallway. "Is someone dead?"

"Not yet," Damian said coolly.

"10 points for the unnecessary but well-delivered ominous line. -100 points for attacking me with Titus. And Alfred. And waking everyone up in the middle of the night on one of our only days off," Drake said dryly, glaring.

"You look more like a zombie than Todd," Damian sneered.

"The only reason I'm not offended is because it's true. Seriously, is this your first time sleeping in a week?"

Drake shot Todd a look. "Do you think I keep track?"

"Not good, Timmy. You need more sleep," Cain said, slipping around the corner. She cocked her head and looked at Damian. "What happened? Something good."

"Something good happened?" Grayson said, shuffling down the hall towards them, rubbing his eyes. "What was it?"

"Dami knows," Cain said.

"I got attacked," Drake offered.

"No one cares," Damian responded.

"That's actually true," Todd agreed. "You get attacked a lot; it's really not news."

"I sincerely hope you don't plan on spending the rest of the night in the hallway."

Everyone turned to look at Pennyworth, who had just arrived on the scene. He looked neat and impeccable, even in pajamas; it was mildly disturbing.

Damian just shook his head. "No. We're going downstairs now; I'm sure Father can catch up. I don't want to wait any longer."

Pennyworth raised an eyebrow. "We open presents in the morning, Master Damian."

Damian grinned. "Who needs presents when I've caught Santa Claus?"

The silence was deafening, but Damian didn't wait for them to react. He turned on his heel and rushed downstairs to the living room. He smirked at the pounding footsteps following him.

( _Good_.)

"Wait! Damian, what are you talking about?" Grayson called, voice surprisingly high.

"Tim, I don't know what's happening, but you need to go get your camera because it's probably amazing."

"On it."

Damian could feel his grin growing.

It disappeared as soon as he entered the living room and flipped on the lights.

" _NO!_ " Damian shouted, staring in horror at the man hanging unconscious and upside down in his trap.

Damian barely registered the rest of his family gathering in the room.

He heard Grayson's embarrassingly high-pitched whimper.

He heard Pennyworth's "Oh, my."

Cain's "Bruce."

Todd's desperate "Timmy, Timmy, Timmy!"

Drake's annoyingly reverent "I know, Jay. I know."

But it didn't register. Not really.

Because all he could see was his father. Hanging in his trap. Dressed up as Santa Claus.

( _How is this possible?)_

"No, no, no! I don't understand! How did this happen?"

"Honestly, it looks like B wasn't paying attention. And, really, there's no excuse for that," Todd said mockingly.

Damian whirled around fiercely. "I'm being serious, Todd! It was perfect! I drugged the cookies-"

"What?" Grayson cried.

"Honestly, Master Damian."

"He drugged the cookies, Jason!"

"I set my trap and the alarm! I was supposed to have Claus? How did he know? How did he know what I was planning?"

"Master Richard, I think this requires an explanation, don't you?"

"It wasn't my fault, Alfred! I swear!"

"Steph's fault."

"Way to throw your best friend under the bus, Cass. I want to be that savage one day."

"It's impossible to be as savage as Cass, Jason. It's impossible."

"Will the two of you shut up! Don't you see what's happened here?" Damian demanded.

Drake raised an eyebrow. "I see it. And I'm recording it."

Damian bared his teeth. "No, you don't see it; you're all still under his control! And so was Father! And Claus forced him into this ridiculous suit and knowingly made him eat the drugged cookies – all to get back at me! He's mocking me – letting me know I'll never be good enough to stop him."

Damian looked at the floor and clenched his fists. "He's won," he admitted.

( _I've failed. They'll be under Claus' control forever. There's no way to stop him.)_

"All right, I think that's enough," Pennyworth said clearly. "Camera off, Master Timothy. And I would like someone to explain exactly what has happened here."

Damian looked up, resignation morphing into anger. "Claus won't even let you admit to it? He's that intent on torturing me?"

Grayson's face fell into a painfully pitiful expression. "I didn't think this would happen, Alfred. I just wanted Christmas!"

Anger morphed into befuddlement. Though anger was still present. "What are you talking about, Grayson?"

Pennyworth cocked an eyebrow.

Grayson cringed. Todd ineffectively his behind Grayson. Cain, much more effectively, hid behind Todd. Drake raised his hands, grimacing in his typical clueless fashion.

Damian furrowed his brow and scowled, anger slowly fading.

( _What is going on here? Shouldn't Claus be appearing to gloat? Or using his mind control to make one of them do it for him?)_

Grayson tried to look away from Pennyworth, but his eyes landed on their father. He cringed further and turned back to Pennyworth.

"It's all their fault," he said helplessly, gesturing behind him and ignoring the resulting protests. "I just wanted Christmas, Alfred! There's nothing wrong with wanting Christmas!"

Pennyworth's brow remained raised.

And Damian…remained confused.


	13. Christmas 5

**Title:** All's Well that Ends Well (Even if Christmas was Basically Ruined)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Clark Kent (mentioned), Conner Kent (mentioned), Barbara Gordon (mentioned), Roy Harper (mentioned), Harper Rowe (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.

 **Note:** This was inspired by the amazing _I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa_ _Claus_ by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.

Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.

 **Note:** It took me 9 months, but I finally finished. In about 3 weeks of intensive writing. I'm kind of ashamed it took me this long.

* * *

Dick twiddled his fingers, tapping his foot, and doing his utmost not to look at anyone else in the room.

They were all waiting for Bruce and Alfred to come back up from the Cave. They weren't entirely sure what to expect, but it wasn't likely to be good.

After all, Bruce had woken up with a killer headache and his signature dark and brooding glare, and Alfred…

Dick didn't want to think about Alfred.

"So."

All eyes shifted to Tim simultaneously.

"This could end badly, but, as far as I can tell, we have 2 options."

Jason turned to Tim, intrigued. "What are those options exactly?"

"1: we blame it all on Dick."

"Hey!" Dick cried, sitting up straight. "How-no! You can't blame me. This is not my fault! Of everyone whose fault it could be, my name doesn't come up!"

Tim shrugged. "I said we had 2 options, didn't I?"

"What's number 2?" Cass asked, cocking her head.

"We go for your plan: blame Steph. I think we've got the best shot with that one, really. There's more evidence that it's her fault than anyone else's and she's not here, so she can't defend herself."

"I like it; let's do it," Jason said.

Cass nodded.

Dick stared at them blankly. Honestly, he had given up on them a while ago. But it was… not at all surprising to see how far they would go.

They learned it from Bruce.

"Quiet, you fools! Can't any of you see what's happening here?" Damian hissed.

"I don't think _you_ see what's happening here," Tim drawled.

"I'm the only one who sees-!"

Dick set a hand on Damian's shoulder and shook his head. "Just… not now, Damian."

"Yeah, Damian," Jason quipped, "You guys' quality of life is at stake."

"What do you mean 'you guys''?" Tim questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, see, I just realized that I can leave whenever I want and go to any of my few dozen safe houses across the world, so Bruce can't ground me. I'm pretty much in the clear."

Tim snorted. "We all have safe houses, Jason. Even Damian."

"Grounded?" Damian scowled. "Why would any of us be grounded?"

Dick sighed heavily. He wanted to join in on the commiserating looks Jason and Tim were sending each other, but that would make it seem like he had been in on this with them.

"You drugged the cookies," Tim pointed out. "And caught Bruce in a trap."

Damian stood up sharply. "To catch the most dangerous man in the world – not that any of you understand that! He won't let you!"

Dick let his face drop into his hands. "Please, Damian. Sit down."

"Can we get back to what really matters here?" Jason demanded.

"The malicious indoctrination of your youngest brother doesn't matter, Jason?"

And there Dick went. Raising his voice. Whenever he thought he didn't have it in him…

"Okay, you're making it sound worse than it is. But I still say we blame Steph," Tim stated. "Show of hands?"

Dick was giving up on life, and Damian had his arms crossed, but the other three raised their hands unhesitatingly.

"I'm all for blaming Steph," Jason allowed, "but my point stands: what punishment are we trying to escape here?"

"No presents and no food from Alfred," Cass said plainly.

"Oh crap," Jason said, blinking. He raised his hand higher in the air. "Okay. Let's definitely blame Steph. It was all her fault. We had no part in this; we're innocent bystanders."

"Obviously," Tim agreed, rolling his eyes. "Keep up, Jay."

"Can I say something here?" Dick interjected.

"Is it going to be depressingly moralistic and admonishing when we're in the middle of a serious life-crisis?" Jason asked.

Dick pursed his lips.

Jason shook his head. "Exactly. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

"Really? You're going to say that? To me? You?"

"Is that judgement I'm hearing, _Richard?_ I don't need that from you; this is an emotionally trying time for me and I need your love and support!"

"'Love and support'? What about Damian? He needed _your_ love and support! Look how that turned out!"

"What are you going on about?" Damian interrupted.

"Nothing relevant," Tim answered. "We should be focusing on getting our story straight."

"He'll be able to tell," Cass pointed out.

"Or, maybe, we should stop lying and tell the truth!" Dick suggested. "I know it's a novel concept for us, but maybe, if we just try, we'll realize that it makes everything better."

Jason and Tim caught each other's eyes before, predictably, breaking into peals of laughter. Cass just smiled at him and patted his knee patronizingly.

( _Thanks, Cassie.)_

"Tt. I don't know what any of you are on about, but even I know that's a stupid idea, Grayson," Damian added, arms still crossed and shoulders still slumped, but with an added quirk to his lips.

( _Making fun of me pulls them together. How nice.)_

Tim smirked. "As much fun as that was, let's get serious guys. Dick told Alfred about Damian thinking Santa is evil-"

"He is!"

"While Bruce was unconscious. Alfred definitely told Bruce about it. Because this is Damian and he was doing it in all earnestness to protect the world, he'll probably get off with an aimless lecture because, really, there's no logical way to approach correcting him for this."

"There's nothing to correct, Drake!"

Tim continued to ignore Damian, settling fully into Red-Robin-here-for-damage-control-because-you're-all-helpless-without-me mode. "With Damian out of the way, he'll focus on trying to figure out if anyone is guilty; did anyone set this into motion? Was this planned? We can't get away with saying we were innocent – we all knew about it and didn't say anything. Besides, Dick looks too guilty."

"Someone should be," Dick grumbled.

Pointlessly because there was no stopping Tim once he was on a roll.

"So, we say we knew about it, and we didn't say anything, but Steph was the one who encouraged Damian and didn't set him straight. It's all true, anyway, so we aren't even lying. It's just… a matter of presentation."

Cass nodded in agreement.

Damian stared on, indignant and confused, which seemed like it was going to be his permanent state of being for the foreseeable future.

Jason whistled. "Wow, Timmers. If you weren't a weird combination of vigilante-businessman, you would totally be a lawyer."

"You mean that as an insult, but we all know who'd be in charge of keeping you out of jail."

Jason tilted his head, conceding the point.

And Dick had to admit, as shameful as this all was – and it was so, so, so shameful – he was really impressed with Tim's thoroughness and dedication.

If only he would apply it to other things. Like being a good role model for his impressionable younger brother.

And then there were footsteps. Which meant Bruce and Alfred were coming.

( _Seriously, what's with the perfect timing here?)_

Everyone sat up straighter, and Dick couldn't help rolling his eyes when Jason noticed and forced himself to slump into the couch. Like everyone didn't know he was just as nervous as they were.

Tim shot Jason a look of pure judgment that he probably learned from Alfred.

Dick turned away from the scene when Bruce and Alfred finally walked in the room. Bruce had changed out of the Santa suit.

Dick felt immensely relieved, and he hadn't even known he'd been worried about that.

"Father," Damian started forcefully, standing up.

"Sit down, Damian," Bruce said.

There was a miniscule wrinkle in between his eyebrows, which meant he had a "my children are insane" headache. That was so much better than a headache that was just a headache. Those always meant he was angry or disappointed.

No one needed that right now.

It was _Christmas._

"How long has this been going on?"

"2 weeks," Tim said plainly.

Bruce's eyes shifted to Tim. "And you didn't say anything?"

"I just wanted Christmas!" Dick exclaimed.

Bruce ignored him, which kind of hurt.

Tim shrugged. "We probably should have, but we didn't think it could get this bad."

Damian was practically trembling – whether it was tension, rage, or confusion, Dick wasn't sure. Probably all three, plus the struggle of holding back whatever it was he wanted to say.

"There was a fight. In the mall. Damian nearly beat up a civilian."

For the first time, Tim looked at a loss.

"He was an agent of Santa Claus-!"

"We'll deal with that in a moment, Master Damian," Alfred said calmly.

Cass and Jason avoided making eye contact with Tim, and, really, he should have known better.

Tim blinked. "How did you get a hold of that? I suppressed all of the footage."

There was a moment of silence. Bruce's face was blank, but Dick assumed that, underneath, he was feeling a mixture of bemusement and pride at how… _Tim_ … Tim was being.

"You sent a copy to Superboy." There was slight disapproval in his voice, probably less because Tim was sending videos of Damian attacking innocents to people, and more because Tim had sent copies of the video to people outside of the family when he should have been covering his tracks.

( _Come on, B. Priorities.)_

Tim gaped. "He showed Clark? Clark wasn't actually supposed to see that. That traitor."

Tim actually sounded really betrayed. It was sort of sad.

Jason scoffed. "Dump him."

Damian frowned. "Really, Drake? You and the clone? Even you could do better."

"Aww," Dick cooed. "That's so sweet; he thinks you could do better!"

"Does that mean you don't think he could do better?" Cass asked, smiling slightly.

"Of course, he could!"

"I thought you liked Superboy," Jason pointed out.

"It's not about liking Superboy-"

"Do I get any say in this?" Tim interrupted.

"Last time you got any say in your love life, you started dating a girl who smashed your face in with a brick. So, no. You don't," Jason said.

"So, you don't like Steph now?" Tim asked.

"I love Steph; honestly, she's better than you-"

"Thanks, Jason."

"Do you want me to lie now?"

"Can we get back on topic?"

Dick looked away from the trainwreck that was Jason and Tim's conversation, with a sheepish smile.

( _Oops.)_

Bruce's "my children are insane" headache wrinkle had deepened into a "my children are insane and sometimes I wish I'd left them all on a street corner" headache wrinkle.

"Right," Dick said. "Topic. Topic. Topic…"

In all fairness to himself, that conversation had really spiraled.

Bruce sighed. "I figured, if any of you were behind this, you would share with your friends." More disapproval; he should really lighten up on that if he doesn't want Tim to actually become impossible to catch. "So, I called Clark, and he talked to Superboy."

Jason's face was a mask of mock outrage. "You couldn't just talk to us first?"

Bruce shot Jason a dry look. "Superboy is less likely to lie."

"That's really his mentor's fault, if you think about it."

Bruce continued sighing his life away. "You didn't think it would get this bad, but you watched your brother tackle a man in the mall?"

Tim took over the conversation at the redirection. "We didn't actually get there until _after_ Damian had already tackled the guy."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Who's behind this?"

"Steph."

Dick almost admired Tim's unhesitating admittance.

Cass and Jason nodded along; Damian looked like he wanted to hit someone.

Bruce nodded slowly "That… actually makes sense."

There was a pause. Dick wondered what was going to happen next. Then he decided that he really didn't care about Tim and the others taking responsibility anymore; they'd already blamed Steph and Bruce believed them, so there was no point in focusing on that.

What really mattered was fixing this. And there had to be a way to fix it. Bruce would come up with something.

"Damian!" Dick shouted, gesturing to his youngest brother, who looked as frustrated as Dick had ever seen him.

It was kind of hurting his heart the more Dick looked at Damian, so he avoided looking at him.

Bruce nodded. "Yes. This needs to be dealt with. Damian, come with me."

Damian scowled, but stood up. "Where are we going?"

"To the Cave. There's something I need to show you."

Dick blinked and watched them go. He wondered if he should follow. Mostly, he wondered what Bruce could possibly show Damian that would fix this.

"Is that it?" Jason asked.

Which was a good point.

"I believe so, Master Jason. Unless there's anything else you'd like to admit to?" Alfred replied, arching an eyebrow.

Jason shook his head rapidly. "No, no definitely not. Just… that's it? Really?"

"Shut up, Jason," Tim hissed.

Alfred hummed slightly. "Yes, Master Jason, that is _it_ , as you put it. After all, it is Chirstmas."

That was really painful to hear in this context.

"Okay, but really-"

"Jason, if you don't shut up, I will ruin your life."

Cass decided to assist Tim – or save Jason's life – there was no telling – by covering Jason's mouth with her hand. Jason didn't seem particularly bothered; he was probably grateful. Tim had sounded pretty vicious.

"Now, there are 5 hours until breakfast, so if you we could all return to our beds?"

Not a suggestion. Dick guessed he _wasn't_ going to go see what Bruce was showing Damian.

Great.

Now, he just felt anxious.

* * *

Damian looked up when his door opened. Grayson poked his head into the room, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Hey, Dami, mind if I come in?"

Damian pursed his lips, but nodded. "Shouldn't you be sleeping, Grayson?"

He shrugged and dropped down onto the bed. "I wanted to check on you," he paused. "See what Bruce told you."

"He told me the truth," Damian said.

And he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Because, apparently, Santa Claus wasn't real. And that was good, because it meant that there wasn't a supervillain who had control over majority of the world's population – including the heroes.

It also meant that he'd spent the past few weeks making a fool of himself while his siblings continually lied and made fun of him.

Though, honestly? Their behavior made so much more sense in hindsight.

Except for Grayson.

"He told me that Santa Claus isn't real, Grayson. And I expect the sort of juvenile behavior the others exhibited, but I don't understand why you-" He cut himself off. "It doesn't matter."

"I- No! Dami, look at me."

Grayson sounded desperate, and it was embarrassing, so Damian looked at him.

"Show some respect for yourself."

Grayson's face was pinched and a little pathetic. "Damian, I wasn't… I wasn't playing a joke on you or anything."

"But you lied to me. You told me Santa Claus was real."

"I- yeah. But not to hurt you! It's… people tell kids that Santa's real because it's like… I don't know. It's a Christmas thing and I just wanted you to have a nice Christmas and that's just how it goes and then the others told me what they did and I thought I could make things better by convincing you Santa was real so you could Christmas the way kids normally do and it would be nice and magic – but not evil magic and-"

"Grayson," Damian interrupted, slightly overwhelmed. Not by the amount of words – Grayson always talked a lot – but by how disturbingly heartbroken Grayson sounded. "I believe you."

And he did. It was just like his oldest brother to want to do something that ridiculous to give him a "normal childhood experience".

"Oh. Good," he responded, sighing in relief. "Still, I'm sorry. I should have realized how insane this was going to get and I should have gone to Bruce sooner and then we could have avoided all of this."

"Obviously," Damian agreed. "The idea of a figure like 'Santa Claus' being benevolent is just stupid. There really wasn't any other way for me to interpret his 'existence'. Even if you had gotten to me before Brown."

He scowled at the memory of her deception. Mostly, he was upset at himself for being so easily played. How had he fallen for that?

Grayson laughed. "Yeah, I'm getting that. So, how did Bruce convince you that Santa wasn't real? I mean, wouldn't you just think Santa was trying to trick you?"

"I did at first," Damian acknowledged. "But he showed me irrefutable proof."

"What was it?" Grayson asked, leaning forward.

"A video of Superman flying over the North Pole."

Grayson stared at him blankly. "Are you saying… Bruce called Clark, had him interrogate Superboy, and then fly over the North Pole. In the middle of the night. On Christmas Eve."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."

Grayson threw his head back and burst into laughter. "Any lengths!"

( _What is wrong with him?)_

Grayson shook his head as he quieted down. And then, he turned to Damian with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Damian shot his a preemptive dubious look.

"Oh, come on! Don't look at me like that; I've got a great idea!"

"Like your great idea of trying to get me to believe Santa Claus was a compassionate, _real_ entity?"

Grayson cringed. "Too soon, Dami."

Damian smirked.

"And, no. It's a whole lot better."

"Well? What is it then?"

Grayson leaned forward, smile growing. "You wanna' get revenge?"

Damain stared at Grayson. And then he grinned. "Absolutely."

Grayson twisted around excitedly. Now sitting cross-legged on the bed and facing Damian, he clapped his hands together. "Excellent. We need to come up with a great idea to prank them."

Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. It was important to consider this carefully. "Hmm… sedating all of them and-"

"No," Grayson interrupted. "Absolutely not. Never. No sedatives. Ever again. Ever. Dying all of their uniforms pink?"

"Unoriginal," Damian countered, rolling his eyes. "Having Titus attack-"

"No! Absolutely not," Grayson exclaimed, patting the dog on the head soothingly when he shot up at the noise. "Sorry, Titus."

"Tt." Damian leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "What, then, Grayson?"

He frowned slightly. "…Sending blackmail photos to all of their friends?"

"That's less a prank and more straightforward revenge," Damian pointed out.

"Oh. Right. Well-"

"It's perfect. Let's do it."

Damian shared a smile with Grayson.

( _I might actually enjoy Christmas after all.)_

* * *

She'd stormed into the Manor on a mission, determined to confront… well, one of them. Because she'd gotten messages from Barbara and Harper. Messages that said they'd seen really embarrassing pictures of her.

 _April Fools' Day pictures._

And only one of the idiots here would have had access to those pictures.

And only one of the _sadists_ here would have sent out those pictures on _Christmas._

That really only ruled out Cass, but Steph hadn't suspected her in the first place.

After all, she'd gotten pictures of Cass.

Steph hadn't actually thought it was possible to get blackmail photos of Cass, but someone had proved her wrong.

She'd be impressed if she weren't so horrified at the entire situation.

"All right," she demanded, staring at all of them, sitting in the living room like they weren't _evil_. "Which one of you did it?"

"Stephanie," Bruce said.

She waved him off. "Bruce, this is serious business. One of your children – but not Cass – sent _April Fools' Day pictures_ of me to Barbara and Harper!"

They all looked shocked – well, Bruce looked like he was regretting every life decision up to this point, but that was his typical expression.

So, there was no way to rule anyone out.

Not that she'd expected it to be that easy.

She stomped. "That's not how blackmail pictures work! And one of you sent me pictures of Cass, which, impressive, but seriously?"

Cass blinked, cocked her head, looked around the room, and then nodded. "Oh. Sorry, Dami. Dick."

Steph's jaw dropped. "No. Dick?"

He shrugged, smiling unrepentantly. "Revenge is revenge, Steph. No hard feelings?"

"Oh, there should plenty of those, Grayson."

Damian was smirking like he was a Bond villain; it was terrifying. More terrifying than usual because he had sent blackmail pictures out and had effectively ruined her life!

Okay, so her life wasn't ruined, but she'd nearly had a heart-attack when she'd gotten those texts.

"Wait," Jason said, sounding a bit panicked. "You sent pictures of Cass. If you sent pictures of Cass…"

It was kind of hilarious to watch Jason dig around in his pockets looking for his phone like he would die if he didn't find it.

He pulled it out of the 5th pocket he looked in, which is what he got for wearing a leather jacket indoors during Christmas – like, come on, Jason – and unlocked it.

"No. No."

"What?" Tim asked, detachedly interested.

Steph raised her eyebrow at his reaction. He was really calm; it was kind of annoying. Cass could be calm and it was fine. Tim panicked when he ran out of instant espresso powder. This was more serious than instant espresso powder.

( _Well, maybe not to Tim.)_

"You sent the pictures from Damian's birthday? To Roy?"

Steph had never heard his voice that high before.

Dick shrugged.

Damian grinned like he had just taken over the world.

She wondered if she should apologize. Dick has sent her a guilt trip text message last night to tell her that Alfred and Bruce had found out and that she was a horrible person. But Tim had also sent her a video of Bruce hanging upside down from the ceiling, so she hadn't really been sorry then.

She kind of was now, though.

Not that an apology would actually solve anything.

 _April Fools' Day pictures had been released._

"How could you? And Roy? Really?" Jason said, looking genuinely disturbed.

Bruce sighed somewhere in the background, probably wondering how his life had come to this.

It was his own fault for perpetuating this cycle of revenge.

( _Ooh. I should say that put loud someday.)_

Jason whirled around to Tim after a lackluster response from his tormentors. "Why are you so freaking calm?"

Tim snorted. "They probably sent pictures to the team." He looked at them questioningly, shrugging when they nodded. "So, it doesn't matter. If any of them try to make fun of me, I'll just remind them that I have worse pictures. Problem solved."

"Has anyone ever told you that you run your team in a vaguely totalitarian manner?" Jason asked, disgruntled, but obviously impressed.

Tim shrugged again.

Dick hummed.

Tim froze.

"So… you've got pictures _worse_ than St. Patrick's Day last year?"

Steph had never seen anyone pale that fast. Or anyone grin as mean-spiritedly as Damian.

But, to be fair, the St. Patrick's Day pictures were _bad._ Worse than the April Fools' pictures.

Way worse.

Which was saying a lot.

"You didn't."

"Oh, we did, Drake."

"That's… that's just cruel, Babybat," Jason said, once again sounding impressed.

Steph exchanged a look with Cass. They were obviously both on the same page about the boys' level of crazy.

Tim stood up. "I doubt any of them are up yet; I can still hack into their phones and computers through the backdoors I installed and delete the photographs before they see them."

Jason stood up, too. "There are things I could say, but I'm not going to. You have one of those installed in Roy's stuff?"

"Obviously."

Bruce, unsurprisingly, looked a little proud.

"Delete those pictures, too. It doesn't matter if he's seen them if he can't produce proof."

Damian looked a little upset, but Dick just slung an arm around him and smiled. "Have fun with that!"

The look Tim shot him was Damian-levels of feral.

( _Someone takes their ability to keep all of their friends in check a little too seriously.)_

"You're all horrible people and I hate you," Steph said.

"Tt. Let it go and embrace the Christmas spirit, Brown," Damian drawled, all smirks and unreasonable sass.

( _Man, that was a good line.)_

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Dick cried, grinning way too much for someone that cruel.

"I will end you," Tim promised, beginning his trek to the Cave; Jason followed right behind him.

"You just need more coffee!" Dick called out.

"Please don't encourage him," Bruce asked, pained.

"Merry Christmas, B," Dick said, grinning.

"Yes," Damian stated smugly. "Merry Christmas, Father."

"Hot chocolate?" Alfred questioned placidly, coming into the room just in time to miss the drama.

"Me!" Cass said smiling.

"OH! Cocoa for everyone please, Alfred!"

Steph snorted, shaking her head and plopping down onto the floor. "You're all horrible people," she repeated.

"Merry Christmas," Cass said.

Steph threw her head back and laughed.

She couldn't believe she loved these people.


	14. My Family by Damian Wayne

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon (mentioned)

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a paper describing his family.

 **Note:** This is actually the first installment I ever wrote for Grade School. Like. Ever. Like. I wrote this one year ago. Seriously. And I was planning on making this a one-shot. So, if the style seems a bit incongruent, you know why.

* * *

When Dick found the paper, he had been rifling through Damian's backpack to make sure his little brother hadn't brought weapons to school. Again.

("No, Damian. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't bring weapons to school?"

"Grayson, If I get attacked-"

"No, Dami."

"Or see a crime in progress-"

"You're in elementary school!"

"Age doesn't prevent people from performing crimes, Grayson."

"You can't bring knives to school.")

He'd almost passed over it, but had taken a second glance upon seeing how it was marked up.

( _It's completely covered in red. Did he fail something? Is he upset? Did I miss it somehow when he came home?_ )

He paused upon seeing the big red "A" in the top right corner, brow furrowing. And then he read the title:

 _My Family by Damian Wayne_

Dick's eyes widened, and he let the backpack fall to the floor as he sat down to read the essay.

* * *

"Alfred! Alfred!"

"Yes, Master Richard?"

Dick grinned as he walked into the kitchen and saw Alfred making dinner. "Is everyone coming? Well, not Babs, but everyone else?"

"Yes, indeed. Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie are on their way now."

"Great! Great!"

Dick bounced up and down on his toes excitedly. Alfred would ask. He had to ask.

( _Come on, Alfred. This smile is hurting my face._ )

"Is something wrong, Master Richard?"

Dick jumped forward, taking a seat at the island and setting the paper down on the counter. Alfred raised an eyebrow in question, sliding a pan into the oven without even looking.

"You, Alfred, are a solid man. Quite calm and capable."

"Thank you, Master Richard."

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank Dami."

Alfred's eyebrow raising slightly higher was the only sign of surprise. "Master Damian said that?"

"Well... he didn't say it, so much as write it. I was looking through his bag to make sure he didn't slip any knives past my morning check, and lo and behold," Dick held up the essay with a flourish, "I find this masterpiece."

"And what is that, Master Richard?"

"This, is a four page paper that Dami wrote... on his family."

Alfred blinked. "Oh my."

"Exactly! Everyone has a paragraph! You are right there, third paragraph down."

Dick handed the essay to Alfred and smiled.

"It's quite marked up."

Dick coughed. "Yes, well... it's Dami."

Alfred hummed and read the paper. Dick eyes him carefully; for all his training, he had never fully been able to read Alfred - especially when he was keeping his expression purposefully blank. Alfred was harder to read that Bruce, honestly.

Dick shifted in his seat and reached his hand out.

"Wait until dinner, Master Richard. It's in less than an hour."

Dick laughed. "Yes, Alfred."

Dick managed to sit still for a few more seconds before he stood up. "I think I'm going to get Bruce."

Alfred nodded, turning a page.

* * *

"Hey, B! Working hard?"

Bruce flicked his eyes up briefly, grunting. "The board has a new proposal."

"Already have Timmy look it over?"

"He said it seems sound, but there are a few kinks to work out."

Dick nodded, humming a mindless tune and walking a circuit around Bruce's office. He had only completed two full rounds before Bruce gave in.

"Did you want something?"

"Do you want to read a paper your son wrote?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Your youngest son," Dick clarified.

"What paper?"

"A paper in which Damian describes his family."

Bruce blinked. Dick wondered how long it would take for his brain to process what he had just said.

"Damian wrote a paper about us?"

( _Ah, there we go. Faster than I expected really._ )

"Alfred's reading it now. Come on, take a break. Dinner's almost ready anyway."

* * *

Dick was grinning as he walked into the kitchen. "What'd you think?"

"I fear Master Damian's teacher may have had something of a nervous breakdown while grading his paper. Poor woman."

Dick snickered. "Oh, definitely."

"Aside from that, it was very nice." Alfred's voice and smile were fond, and Dick wondered if it were times like these that made all of the "peacekeeping" worth it.

"B's turn, then. Are you ready, Bruce? You're the fifth paragraph, first new paragraph on the second page."

"You memorized everyone's paragraphs?"

"You're kidding, right? I read that paper, like, 10 times."

Bruce snorted under his breath, but walked over to the island and picked up the essay. He raised an eyebrow as he skimmed over the first page, the corners of his mouth twitching in some places. And then he reached his own paragraph and his face went blank. Dick's grin widened.

"You're an excellent man, Bruce."

Bruce looked at him briefly, did his best to hid the small smile growing on his face.

Dick just laughed.

Bruce finished the last page and cleared his throat. "That was a good paper. Even if Ms. Andrews listed me third," Bruce murmured wryly.

Dick laughed. "It's your own fault for picking the persona furthest from your own. And I'm actually thinking of hanging it on the refrigerator."

"A splendid idea, Master Richard."

Bruce nodded. "I'm going to go finish up that report."

Dick rolled his eyes and grinned, sharing a look with Alfred.

"Now," he said, "What sort of magnets do we have, Alfred?"

"A large variety, in fact. I was thinking-"

"We're back! And we have matching manicures!"

Dick snatched the paper from the counter where Bruce had left it and held it up in front of him as Steph and Cass walked into the kitchen.

"Ladies, I'm sure those manicures are lovely."

"Purple, black, and yellow," Steph replied, smiling.

"What's that?" Cass asked, looking at the paper curiously.

Steph blinked and cocked her head.

"This, Cass, is a wonderfully written paper by your baby brother. About his family."

Steph gaped. "Damian wrote about you guys for school?"

"He wrote about all of us," Dick clarified. "You and Babs are in the fourth paragraph. Cass is in the sixth."

"Oh goodness. I can't even imagine what he said," Steph groaned, walking over and taking the paper from Dick's hands.

Cass glided over, reading over Steph's shoulder.

Dick waited.

"Oh, I'm definitely telling Babs. Oh- of course he had 'plans' - thanks for that by the way."

"No problem."

"I-" Steph stopped suddenly, eyes going back and forth repeatedly. "Did he..."

"He says your his teacher," Cass murmured.

Steph turned the page, reading the last few lines of the paragraph. Her smile nearly broke her face. "He told me he was doing it grudgingly!"

"You believed him?" Dick quipped.

"Yes. Oh my gosh! I'm calling Babs, actually, but first..." Steph took out her phone and snapped a picture of the first page. "She's going to need photographic proof that he called her an 'invaluable asset'."

Steph handed the paper to Cass so she could properly text Barbara. Cass looked at him.

"6?"

He nodded, smiling.

She read her paragraph quickly, silently. She handed it back to him, smiling. "That was sweet."

Dick didn't think he'd seen Cass smile like that in a while. Damian had absolutely no idea how much he meant to them all.

"Babs says that this made her day, and to thank Damian for her. I think she was actually speechless for a while."

Dick laughed. "I'm not surprised. Jason really needs to see this, though. You said he was coming, Alfred?"

"Indeed."

"I'm already here."

Dick turned around, grinning. He held his arms out. "Jaybird!"

Jason stared at him blankly, before waving to the others.

"Don't smoke in the house, Master Jason. You shall develop lung cancer."

Dick cackled as Jason cocked an eyebrow but put out the cigarette and threw it away.

"What did I need to see?" He jerked his head at the paper Dick was holding. "Is that it? What is it? Some sort of terrorist manifesto? Looks sort of flimsy."

Steph snorted. "Your little brother is a demon, not a terrorist," she corrected.

Jason blinked. "What'd he do now?"

"He wrote a paper, that's what. And you need to read it! Last paragraph, second page."

Dick was bouncing on his toes as Jason snatched the essay from his hands.

"Be gentle! That's going on the refrigerator!"

"We're going to go wash up," Steph said, sharing a smile with Cass as the two of them walked out of the kitchen.

"Dinner will be ready shortly. Do tell Master Timothy."

"We will."

Jason grumbled as he read. "Kid's a little-"

"Read it all, Little Wing," Dick said, still grinning.

Jason obliged with a snort, but his scowl melted away, leaving him looking a bit flabbergasted as he turned the page. He gaped slightly.

Dick waltzed over and bumped his shoulder into Jason's. "What is he again?"

"My bratty little brother," Jason muttered dryly, grinning softly.

"Haha! Now we just have to get Tim to read it."

"Read what?"

The two of them turned around as Tim slipped into the room.

"Everyone in this family has excellent timing," Dick said happily.

"Of course we do; we're bats," Tim rejoined. "Hi, Alfred."

"Master Timothy."

"Speaking of bats: Babybat wrote something, Timmers, and Dickiebird seems to think you should read it."

Jason was smirking, making Dick wonder if he'd gotten around to reading Tim's paragraph or if he just assumed it would be the same.

( _Probably the latter. He had been too stunned to get past his own paragraph._ )

"Damian? What'd he write?"

"He wrote a paper about us," Dick chimed. "You're the first new paragraph on the third page. Read it!"

"Um... no. Thanks. Will dinner be ready soon? I haven't actually eaten in a while."

"We know," Dick muttered, earning a look from Tim.

"It will be, Master Timothy. 15 minutes."

"Come on, Babybird, just read it."

"Not happening, Jason."

"Tim!"

"No, Dick. I'm not sure why you want me to read what is sure to be a scathing commentary on my inadequacies by the Demon, but I'm really not interested. Will you tell them, Alfred?"

"You should read it."

Tim stared at Alfred; he looked betrayed. "Alfred!"

"I read it as well; I doubt you will be too disappointed."

Tim blinked and turned to where Dick and Jason were standing. He eyed the essay suspiciously, but walked up and grabbed it.

"Where was it?"

"First new paragraph on the third page," Dick recited.

Tim heaved a sigh and flipped to the third page. One second passed. "Right, I'm good," he said, holding out the paper expectantly.

"Tim!"

"'It is sheer luck that he's still alive today, despite my best efforts.' Do I need to read more than that?"

"Yes," the three of them said simultaneously.

Tim stared, heaved another sigh, and began reading again. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but then his head jerked in surprise.

"'Vastly intelligent'," Dick quoted.

"Seriously?" Jason asked.

Dick nodded, smirking.

Tim's mouth opened and closed repeatedly and he looked up at them. "That's..."

"Yeah," Dick affirmed.

"But that's..."

"Uh huh," Jason said.

"This has got to be the sweetest thing he's ever said about me. And he alludes to my death less than 4 times. That has to be a record. And he said he doesn't even want me dead anymore! I didn't know that."

Dick grabbed the paper back from Tim.

( _Tim doesn't need to read about Titus or Alfred right now. Better to preserve the moment._ )

"It's the sweetest thing, ever."

Tim honestly looked a little lost.

"You gonna' be okay, Babybird?"

"I don't know; will I? What did he say about you?"

"I'm intelligent, well-read, deserve a better death than lung cancer," Jason paused, his expression a bit more thoughtful, and bit more serious. "And that he understood my reasons, back then. That it's something we both have to deal with. And that he respects me. For not... for not letting it weigh me down anymore."

The three of them stood there for a moment, and Dick exhaled softly. Because the paper was excellent, and surprisingly fond, on Damian's part, but it also said a lot.

No one who wasn't a part of the family would understand it, but they did.

The paper showed a lot of growth in Damian, but a lot of insecurity too. Fear, and the fact that he wasn't sure he could move on from his past the way Cass and even Jason had.

( _Oh, Dami..._ )

"What are you three idiots standing around for?"

They started, and Dick hid the paper behind his back, sheepish all of a sudden.

( _Should we have read that? Should I have shown everybody? Probably not. Dami would be so embarrassed._ )

"Hello, Master Damian, how was training?"

"Successful, as usual, Pennyworth. Is it time for dinner already?"

"Nearly. Perhaps the four of you could set the table," Alfred suggesting, passing behind Dick and taking the paper from him smoothly.

"Sure thing, Alfred!" Dick said with a grin.

( _Thank God for Alfred!_ )

Damian shot the three of them another look before grabbing the silverware from the counter.

"Maybe ix-nay on the idge-fray, Alfie."

"Of course, Master Richard."

"What?" Damian asked. "What nonsense are you spouting, Grayson?"

Dick laughed in surprise. He hadn't thought that would actually work!

"Oh my gosh," Tim muttered, smiling as he grabbed the plates.

"You don't know pig latin," Jason said, staring.

"'Pig-latin'? That wasn't Latin, Todd? And what do swine have to do with it?"

"You know- what? A dozen languages? And you don't know pig-latin!"

"It appears Miss Stephanie has been remiss in her instruction."

Dick snorted. "Alfred!"

Damian glared at them. "You're all ridiculous," he muttered, walking to the dining room.

Steph and Cass came into the kitchen moments later.

"What's with the angry bird?" Steph joked.

"You didn't teach him pig-latin, Steph," Dick informed her, walking over to grab the casserole.

Steph blinked before laughing. "Oh my gosh! I didn't! He has no idea!"

"I'm all for carrying on a conversation in pig-latin at the dinner table," Tim said seriously.

"Tim!" Dick shouted.

"Yes. Absolutely," Jason said.

"I'm in!

Cass shrugged at Dick and he groaned.

"He's going to be furious."

"He'll get over it," Tim said. "Because he loves us."

Dick stared at him before smiling. "Yeah. He does."


	15. My Family by Damian Wayne 2

My Family by Damian Wayne

There are many people that are a part of my "family" – in a nontraditional sense. However, I would like to preface this paper by asserting that I do not consider all of the people I am about to mention members of my _actual_ family. But, I will describe them in this assignment according to your directive, Andrews. 1

Mother and Grandfather are family. However, though they raised me for the first decade of my existence, for the most part, they are absent from my life.

The next member would be Pennyworth, I suppose. Pennyworth is the family butler, but most people would assume that he is more than that – and they would be right. He is a solid man, quite calm and capable. He performs all of the housework in the Manor, but he also ensures that everyone in the family keeps on schedule. He keeps us organized, and often serves as something of a peacekeeper; he makes sure none of us kill each other – or ourselves, for that matter. When I initially met him, I dismissed him and underestimated his value due to his position. As much as I hate to admit it, I was wrong, and I have come to greatly respect Pennyworth.

The next members are Gordon and Brown. Their positions as "family" are tenuous at best, but I suppose they deserve mention. I do not see Gordon as often as I do Brown, and I do not have much of an opinion of her personally. However, I acknowledge that Gordon is an invaluable asset and that perhaps we would not be so successful without the work that she does. Brown, for some reason that only makes sense in her highly illogical brain, saw fit to insert herself into my life. I cannot get rid of her. I had plans to attempt it, but Grayson prevented me from acting on those plans, so she remains a menace. Now, it is too late, and she has become my teacher, of a sort. She instructs me in "popular culture." She forces me to watch movies and television shows so that I can "start getting references." She introduced me to social media, which, I will concede, has been helpful; social media is a useful platform for gathering information. Brown is a nuisance, but her relentless determination has served her well and I have begun to grasp facets of today's youth culture that were previously lost on me – and she is not a complete waste of space. We have found that we enjoy watching nature documentaries and "reality" television together.

Then, of course, there is Father. Father is an excellent man. He is strong, talented, and in possession of an unyielding moral code. He took control of his life and channeled his emotions into work that makes life better for everyone in Gotham. I admire him, his commanding presence, his strength of character, and his knowledge that what he is doing is the right thing. I aspire to follow in his footsteps and one day succeed him – and to make him proud when I do.

My "siblings" come next. Cain is my only sister. Cain is quiet, thoughtful, and intelligent. She is a dignified and compassionate individual, and cares very much for everyone in our family. She has experienced much in life, but, somehow, has come out stronger for it. Better. I admire that about her. In addition, she is very capable – one of the most skilled individuals I have met in my life. And she puts her skills to good use. I enjoy working with her more than most members of my family. I believe we work well together, and she has a professionalism that I appreciate. I respect her immensely.

Todd is something of the black sheep of the family. He went rogue and engaged in a number of fights with both myself and the rest of the family. However, he has been inducted back into the fold – mostly thanks to Grayson's efforts. He is fairly vulgar – prone to coarse language – almost as though he has nothing better to say. I do not believe I will ever understand it, considering he is a very intelligent and well-read individual. He smokes cigarettes; I believe it to be an addiction. I expect it will lead to lung cancer and his eventual death – entirely pathetic. He deserves a better death than that, but if that is how he would prefer to die, he deserves it. Todd is also someone I find myself relating to, much to my displeasure. Though I ascribe to Father's methods, before Todd came back, I understood his reasons better than most in the family, I believe. And now, that is something we both carry on our shoulders; I have a high opinion for the fact that he does not let his past define him nor slow him down.

Drake is an idiot. It is sheer luck that he's still alive today, despite my best efforts. And, though I no longer wish him dead, he remains one of the stupidest individuals I have met. To this day, I will never understand how he has survived; I assume his existence is one of the great mysteries of the world. He really is quite the contradiction. On one hand, he is vastly intelligent, creative, in possession of a surprising number of leadership qualities, and a matchless asset to the family. On the other, he does not seem to possess a sense of self-preservation. He does not sleep or eat according to the needs of an individual of his height, weight, and age. He has a weak immune system – as he well knows – but ignores it more often than not. He also frequently forgets to take his medication. The next time I find him passed out in his room running a fever, I intend to stab him myself and just get it over with; his suicide is taking too long.

Grayson is the eldest, and he takes his role very seriously. If there is one thing that everyone in my family can agree upon, it is that Grayson is a ridiculous individual. He is talkative, overly fond of puns, and has bad taste in fashion and too much energy – Grayson never seems to sit still. He is overly affectionate and insists upon implementing "family bonding activities", and often conspires with Pennyworth to force us all into cooperation. However, Grayson is also loyal, compassionate, kind, and dependable. In spite of often ludicrous attitude, he is a good person – capable and intelligent as well. I have found that he is a good role model and he is responsible. He cares for each of us, and protects us – even when we would prefer him not to. I trust him more than any person in the world.

The last members of my family would be my pets; I have four. Titus is my dog. He was the first pet I received – a gift from my father. I was not fond of him at first, but I have grown to appreciate him and have trained him to attack Drake – and others – on command. Pennyworth is a cat that Pennyworth gave to me. He has recently begun to take the initiative of suffocating Drake in his sleep. It has yet to work, but I reward him with treats for his attempts regardless. I have a cow – Bat-cow, named after the Batman, whom I admire greatly. Bat-cow was going to be slaughtered, but, after rescuing her, we took her in; she is the reason I am now a vegetarian. I, unfortunately, have yet to train her to do anything useful. My final pet is Goliath. I see Goliath less often than the others, as Goliath does not live at the Manor. The fool is a coward, but still useful on occasion.

That is my family. I have heard it said that you cannot choose your family. Mine is a family primarily of choice – though not my own – yet that statement remains entirely applicable.

1 You said, "Write about your family. Describe them. And remember, family doesn't just have to be people related to you by blood. Family means people that are irreplaceable, people you can't see your life without. Pets too; pets can be family!" As much as I dislike or am indifferent to majority of the people I mention, they all fit that definition.


	16. Parent-Teacher Conference

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like have Parent-Teacher Conferences.

 **Note:** This really wasn't supposed to be this long. But then the therapy sessions happened. Therapy sessions. Therapy.

* * *

"I can skip the meeting," Bruce said, frowning slightly as he examined the email Damian's school had just sent him.

Dick shook his head, lounging back in the chair. "You promised Tim you'd be there."

"I can reschedule."

"Uh… Haven't you already rescheduled this meeting like, 5 times? There was this weird vein in Tim's forehead the last time you did that; you know he takes R&D really seriously."

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's a parent-teacher conference, Dick. I'm supposed to come off as irresponsible, not neglectful."

Dick grimaced slightly. "I really don't see how you're going to swing this, B. Maybe you can just… pretend you didn't get the email. That sounds like a good plan, honestly."

Dick was being completely serious. Parent-teacher conferences? That was just a disaster waiting to happen. Bruce would have to sit there and try to come up with different explanations for Damian's behavior; he was a good liar, but he wasn't _that_ good. No one was that good.

Bruce snorted. "I'd love to. But this has to be dealt with somehow. And there doesn't seem to be any way to _prevent_ Damian's… outbursts."

Dick cringed. "He's been good since break ended."

Bruce shot him a look. It read somewhere between "It's only a matter of time" and "I'm _still_ not over it".

( _Way to hold a grudge, Bruce.)_

Which… wasn't exactly a surprise. Or unfair.

"So, what are you going to do?" Dick asked.

Bruce didn't get to answer – though Dick doubted he actually _had_ an answer – because the door to his office swung open.

Tim strolled in with a terrifyingly large stack of paper. Somehow, it was stapled.

"Did you build an industrial stapler or something?" Dick asked, scooting his chair away from the stack when Tim dropped it onto the desk.

He didn't want any part in that.

Tim rolled his eyes. "I had R&D make one months ago. Speaking of R&D. This is the report we're going to be going over. You need to read this before the meeting next week."

Bruce looked at the monstrosity sitting on his desk and then back at Tim. He looked over at Dick. This was an unmistakable "I need to get out of this meeting" look. Dick fully supported this endeavor.

But he definitely wasn't going to help.

Tim had been muttering about WE developments and proposals for the past… well, he was always muttering about them intermittently, but, lately, he had been muttering _vehemently_.

Tim narrowed his eyes and looked between the two of them. "Is Bruce dying? Are you dying, Bruce?" Tim's voice was light, which was the biggest tipoff there was; Tim didn't do _light._

"No, Tim, but-"

"He's really excited for the meeting and he can't control his enthusiasm!" Dick interrupted.

Bruce looked betrayed.

Tim looked judgmental but willing to play along if it got him what he wanted.

"Really? That's good. I'm happy you're excited, Bruce. I'm excited too."

He didn't _sound_ excited.

Bruce was making that weird face he always made when he was faced with his children's expectations if said expectations had nothing to do with vigilante-work.

"That's… good, Tim. I'll… read this."

"Uh-huh."

Tim backed out of the room, looking at both of them with an unhealthy dose of skepticism. That was really Bruce's fault for making them so cynical.

Bruce turned to him as soon as Tim had closed the door. He raised an eyebrow.

"You can't keep putting Tim off forever," Dick said with a purposefully casual shrug – Bruce would see through it, but he tried it anyway – to hide his own guilt that he doubted would ever go away.

Tim tended to get shunted off to the side more than any of the others – being the least open with his feelings made it easier to forget he had them. Dick hated thinking about it.

Bruce frowned, regretful, his thoughts obviously following the same vein. "So, what about the conference?"

Dick hesitated. "I can do it?"

It wasn't that he didn't want to help. It was just… all the phone calls. All the phone calls. And now he had to deal with it in person? He was basically going to be spending his entire time apologizing for every time Damian had ever looked at her.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow.

"I can!" Dick asserted. "I've dealt with her before; I can definitely handle this."

"Can you?"

"Okay, now you're treating me the way Tim treats you and no one deserves to be treated like that."

Bruce pursed his lips and shook his head. "If you're sure."

"I totally am. Trust me. I've handled bigger things than parent teacher conferences. I've got this. Promise."

* * *

Dick smiled, holding his hand out. "Nice to meet you in person, Ms. Andrews. Dick Grayson."

Her smile was strained. "Stacy."

"Dick."

They stood there staring at each other, nodding and shaking hands for way longer than necessary. Dick was starting to get uncomfortable. Ms. Andrews already looked well past uncomfortable.

( _We're off to a great start.)_

Dick cleared his throat. "So, Stacy..."

She nodded again. "Oh! Please, sit!"

He nodded at her and sat down. Okay, Dick really needed to put this back on the rails; it shouldn't even have been off the rails in the first place. They had only been there for 2 minutes. "So. Damian."

She twitched, seemingly involuntarily. That was a good sign. No. A _great_ sign.

"Yes. Damian," she repeated.

Wow. She looked like she was having flashbacks right now. That was just… so wonderful.

Dick coughed. "Well, uh, I've seen his report cards. He's doing great. Really great. Straight As in everything."

"I- well, yes. He's an excellent student. He turns in all his work on time and it's always done perfectly, no matter what the assignment is."

Dick grinned. He could work with this. "Yeah, he's super smart! And that writing assignment – about family. It was so good! It was kind of the last thing I was expecting, and the only reason he wrote it is because he's in school, so I'm just really glad. It seems like school's really good for him."

Okay, that last bit was an exaggeration; he got in as much trouble in school as he did on the streets – maybe more. But that paper had been _really_ good. And his goal was to distract from Damian's problems, so…

Well he wasn't actually sure if that was what Bruce had had in mind, but that's what Dick was going for.

Stacy was grimacing. "Yes. About that. I feel like that paper is sort of- it sort of… exemplifies a lot of the problems that Damian seems to be having."

( _Here it comes.)_

"'Problems'?" Dick asked weakly.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. He knew what was coming. He could handle this.

"Uh… Yes. Well, as I'm sure you're aware, Damian has been showing increasingly worrying behavior as the year progressed. The, uh, lying. The disrespect. His antisocial tendencies. His paranoia. His… violent reactions. But the paper he wrote is something of a climax. I'm worried for… him."

Dick honestly felt like his body was in a permanent state of cringing. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He was also pretty sure Stacy had changed "for him" from "for my life".

"I… don't think you need to be worried about anything, Stacy," Dick tried, smiling at her.

"I'm sure you don't," she responded, rearranging the papers on her desk. "However, the paper shows a fixation with death, mentioned primarily in the form of murder. I'm just afraid Damian might have some type of… psychopathy. Have you considered counseling?" she suggested, shrugging her shoulders and smiling tentatively.

Dick smiled at her a little bit.

He wasn't upset. He wasn't. He was _handling_ this conference, and, therefore, responding the way a mature adult would.

Okay.

He was kind of pissed.

But with good reason!

Sure, Damian was a little strange compared to other kids his age, but that didn't mean he was a psychopath – he wasn't a psychopath! And he didn't need counseling.

Well, everyone in the family probably needed counseling, but that was beside the point.

And what teacher said that one of their students was psychopathic and suggested counseling?

Well, a teacher concerned for her wellbeing and the wellbeing of all the other students.

But still!

Dick very deliberately didn't take a deep breath, making sure not to show any tension he might or might not be feeling.

"He might have a few problems with anger management, but we're dealing with it."

By setting him on the street to terrorize criminals.

And it was working, too.

Not counting Tim, Damian hadn't attacked anyone he hadn't thought to be a criminal since that incident with the kid who had been bullying him. And _that_ had been a completely legitimate reaction.

Stacy's smile became tighter, more strained. "Well that's… good. But, I just think there might be deeper, underlying problems behind his anger and violent outbursts. In his essay, he talks about having 'plans' to get rid of someone. And stabbing another of your brothers? And training his pets to attack!"

"He's joking! He doesn't actually mean it."

She didn't look like she believed him at all, which was fair because he was lying. Regardless of that, Dick really felt like it was better to end this conference sooner rather than later. It wasn't that he didn't understand where she was coming from – Tim and the others called Damian "Demon" half the time. It was just he didn't appreciate hearing it – or the implications behind it – from anyone else.

It wasn't a pleasant experience.

It was, in fact, very _un_ pleasant.

"I know this must be hard to hear, Dick, but I think you should really take it into consideration – maybe get Damian… checked out. It would be good for him."

And she was being so sincere that he really didn't have any right to be upset with her.

( _But here we are.)_

"That's… good advice, Stacy. And, you know, I think I'll talk to Bruce about it. See what he thinks," he said, nodding and smiling and standing up because he was totally done here.

"Oh, but, there's actually still a bit more to discuss; I'd like to go in depth-"

"That would be wonderful and I'd love to, but I actually have to head back. Sorry about that. It was good to meet you, Stacy, and I'll definitely talk to Bruce about it. See what we can do. Thank you, so much, for just… being a good teacher!"

And he did mean that last part; she hadn't transferred, and everyone had had money riding on it at one point.

She nodded, mouth hanging open slightly. "Yes, of course. Thank you for coming."

He smiled and winked at her before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, releasing a breath as soon as he closed the door.

He nodded to himself.

"I hate parent-teacher conferences."

* * *

Damian cocked an eyebrow when Grayson walked in the room. He looked… bothered.

"I didn't realize those meetings took so much time; Father even made it back before you," Damian said, gesturing to where the man was sitting at the table, looking over reports with Drake.

"I was driving," Grayson replied.

Definitely agitated.

"Are we going to get a call from the school?" Todd joked, trying to steal a sandwich from Damian's plate.

Damian scowled. "Get your own, Todd."

"I'm trying to."

"Not from my-"

"That woman!" Grayson began, sounding unreasonably impassioned. "She called Damian a psychopath! Can you believe that? An actual grown woman whose job it is to teach and guide and care for children called Damian, one of her students, a psychopath! To my face!"

"Tt. I don't remember telling you she was smart, Grayson."

Father sighed heavily, looking up from his papers. "I don't know why I let you go."

Todd snickered. "That's hilarious. Messed up, and completely expected, but mostly hilarious." He sighed. "Good old Stacy. I'm surprised she hasn't had a breakdown yet."

"Are you sure she hasn't?" Drake asked dryly. "Damian's not a psychopath. He's obviously a sociopath. There's a difference. And if she's going to go around giving a false diagnosis, we should probably see about taking away donations from the school. What are we paying them for if their teachers aren't even well-educated?"

"That's what I've been saying this whole time, Drake," Damian grumbled.

"You are _all_ missing the point," Grayson asserted.

"No, no, I don't think we are," Todd countered, reaching for Damian's plate again.

"I told you to get your own!" Damian exclaimed, slapping Todd's hand away with a glare.

Todd ignored him. "I mean, how much are you guys donating to the school?"

"Too much," Drake complained. "We're hemorrhaging money. I mean, it doesn't really hurt in the long run, but a lot of that money could be going towards something useful."

"But they're kind of like reparations, aren't they? I mean, they have to deal with Damian."

"If we don't get reparations, neither should they."

"And what do we get for dealing with you, Drake?"

"Okay, you're all missing the point. Still. Bruce! She recommended counseling!"

"I'm not seeing a therapist!"

"Obviously not," Drake said with a sneer. "We're not trying to get sued for emotional damages. I don't want to have to deal with another Arkham inmate because you traumatized someone."

"Oh, please, Drake, if they're that easy to traumatize, they belong in Arkham."

"I'm going interrupt here and say that's not how that works."

"No one cares about your opinion, Todd."

"He's actually got a point, Jason."

Damian scowled. Agreeing with Drake twice in the span of five minutes?

( _Grayson should keep his problems to himself.)_

"You are all ignoring me, aren't you?"

"Yes," Damian agreed.

"Yep," Drake mumbled.

"Oh, definitely," Todd asserted with a shrug, reaching for Damian's plate again.

"I told you to get your own!"

"You're not going to eat all of that!"

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not! You've been sitting at the table in front of your food for the past half hour."

"So?"

"Boys," Father interrupted, sounding pained.

Life with Todd would do that to a person.

"Tell him to share his sandwiches!"

"Make your own!"

"Seriously?" Drake asked. "Are you arguing over sandwiches right now? I'm actually doing serious work-"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you're trying to allocate company resources to make tech that taps into peoples' nervous system, so…"

Drake scoffed. "Please. I don't need to _try_ to do that."

"Tim, please," Father asked tiredly.

"Okay, you know what?" Grayson asked. "You're all terrible people."

"Well, now you're victim-blaming," Todd stated.

Grayson stared at Todd with a strangely blank look on his face. "You know what, I'm done with you all. Bruce, you're useless. Next time, you get to go to the conference."

"I wanted to; you're the one who told me to go to the meeting."

"So, you tried to get out of it?"

"Tim-"

"Yes, yes, he did, Tim," Grayson interjected. "In fact, you should give Bruce that look you give Jason whenever he does something that proves him to be your biggest disappointment."

"That look doesn't exist because I've never disappointed anyone ever in my life," Todd said.

"You breathe, don't you?" Damian snarked.

"Mmm… actually, that look is reserved solely for Jason, but, since you asked, Dick, I can adapt a version for Bruce."

"You dropped a mass of papers on my desk," Father griped.

"Stapled, well-divided, perfectly organized papers. I spent 7 hours typing up that report, Bruce."

"It was a good report-"

"Change the conversation; this one is boring. Dick, what else did she say?"

Damian sighed and took a bite of his sandwich, shaking his head. They were all insane – and very likely driving his father insane with them.

"She said he had a 'fixation with death' and-"

"Nope. That's true. And boring. Move on. What are we going to _do_ about this?"

"We're not taking away donations. Or getting her fired," Father ordered, leveling a stern look at all of them.

( _Why is he looking at me?)_

"I don't have anything to do with this!"

"You have everything to do with this," Drake claimed.

"I don't want her fired! It was just upsetting. Someone should be upset with me!" Grayson shouted.

"'With you'?" Todd questioned, grinning.

"Are you- are you correcting my grammar right now? Seriously, Jay?"

"Hey, Demonbrat needs to get a good education, and his teachers aren't up to par. Right, Tim?"

"There's a difference between being a psychopath and a sociopath. It's quite distinct; actually, it wouldn't be a bad idea to do a case study separating villains based on the psychological-"

"Shut up, Tim. You're being a nerd; it's embarrassing."

Damian snorted, sneering in response to Drake's glare.

Todd snapped his fingers. "I'm a genius."

"Debatable," Drake quipped.

"Don't lie about yourself, Todd; it reeks low self-esteem."

"Why are you a genius, Jason?" Father asked warily, redirecting the conversation.

Todd smirked. "We're going to put Damian in therapy."

"Have you lost your mind, Todd?"

( _Though I doubt he ever had it.)_

"No," Father said.

"That is a horrible idea!" Grayson cried.

"Do _you_ need therapy?" Drake asked.

Which was probably the case, though Todd would never admit it.

Todd rolled his eyes. "Not real therapy; we're supposed to be protecting the innocents of Gotham, not hurting them. I meant _family_ therapy."

"No," Father repeated.

"That sounds like a disaster," Grayson asserted.

"That much heavily concentrated trauma would probably just make things worse."

"You're an idiot, Todd."

"No, you're all idiots. Like, depressingly slow, actually. I'm starting to have doubts about all of you. I didn't mean _group_ therapy. I meant _family_ therapy. The brat should get shrinked. By us."

Damian stared at Todd incredulously. "Have you had any recent head trauma that we're unaware of?"

"No," Father repeated.

"Are we recording this?" Drake asked, sounding vaguely interested.

"Obviously."

"That… actually sounds like a good idea," Grayson started. "We can all sit down with him and talk to him. Give him some advice. And it might help him at school."

"No," Father repeated.

"Do I get a say in this?" Damian groused.

"No," Todd replied.

"Does everybody have to do it?"

"This is actually a really good idea, Jason!"

"Don't sound so surprised, Dick. It hurts. Also, yes, Tim. You have to take a turn."

"No," Father repeated, but, at this point, he mostly sounded resigned.

"I won't sit down with Drake!"

"But you'll sit down with the rest of us?" Grayson asked eagerly.

"I never said that!"

"You have to sit down with everyone; you'll hurt Tim's feelings otherwise." Todd was grinning obnoxiously.

"No, he won't."

Damian threw a sandwich at Todd.

"Oh, so now you're sharing?"

"I'm not sharing, Todd! It was an act of aggression!"

"You threw a sandwich at me? Seriously? That's weak, Damian."

"I'm not sitting down with him," Drake insisted.

"You have to, Timmy! It's for Damian's own good!"

"No," Father repeated. There was no force in his tone by this point.

Damian shot him a look; he should be trying harder to stop this.

"No, this is a joke that Jason's playing. I'm all for it – I'll even supply the cameras. But I'm _not_ doing this."

"Timmy! You have too!"

"You're a grown man, Dick. Don't whine. And I'm not doing it."

"Timmy!"

"Yeah, Timmy. You have to."

"Jason, I will cut you."

"So, he can do it, but not me? Favoritism, Tim. I'm hurt and a little disappointed."

"I'm not doing this!"

Damian was ignored. Though Father did shrug at him in what Damian assumed was commiseration. It really wasn't enough.

( _He should be ending this.)_

"Timmy!"

"Timmy!"

"Timmy!"

"Timmy!"

"I will murder you both!"

"Tim."

"Timmers."

"Timmy."

"Babybird."

"You gotta'."

"You _gotta_ '."

"I'm going to kill myself."

"Finally admitting to it, Drake? Want any help?"

"Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim."

"Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmmers!"

"Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy!"

"Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!"

"You gooooooooootttttttttttttttta'!"

"Fine! Just- will you both shut up so I can get this work done?"

"You're an embarrassment and you should have held out until your death, Drake. Or theirs."

"Oh, shut up. You know you're doing this right?"

Damian scowled. "Father."

His father just sighed and shook his head. "I want everyone coming out of this no less sane than they went in."

"Father!"

"No promises, B."

"This is going to help, Bruce. I can tell."

"As if we could get any worse."

Damian sighed heavily, glaring at all of them. "Give me back my sandwich, Todd."

"It's mine now, you threw it at me."

"That doesn't count with food!"

"If it counts with knives, it counts with food!"

"Jason! Give Dami back his sandwich."

"It's _my_ sandwich!"

"It's mine!"

"I hope one of you chokes on that sandwich."

"Tim. Please."

"I'll force this sandwich down your throat, Drake."

"You can't do anything with my sandwich unless you ask, Damian. But I'll lend it to you for the sake of tormenting Tim."

Damian rolled his eyes but snatched his sandwich back from Todd's outstretched hand. He took a bite from it viciously.

Drake looked at him suspiciously. "If you try to shove that down my throat after biting it… I'll end you. I swear."

"Please. As if I'd waste a sandwich on you, Drake."

"Are you serious? I gave that to you in trust! I thought we bonded! Give the sandwich back!"

"No!"

"Seriously, guys?" Grayson exclaimed. "It's a sandwich! Why do you all care about the sandwich that much?"

"It's mine."

"Alfred made it."

"I don't want anything to do with the stupid sandwich."

"Ugh."

"Look! You're giving Bruce a headache."

"You're all giving me a headache," Father said, standing up. "I'm going to my office to finish going over these, Tim. And since I know I can't stop you from taking the videos, make sure you keep them _private._ "

"I will," Drake said, sighing.

Father nodded and left the kitchen.

Grayson shrugged and grinned. "I'll go round up the girls. Library?"

"I'll set up the cameras," Drake said, grabbing his papers and standing up.

Grayson stuck his tongue out.

"Grown man," Drake responded.

Damian scowled at them on their way out. Then he scowled at Todd. "This is your idiotic idea, and when it inevitably goes wrong, I'll remind you of that."

"Uh, it's brilliant, actually. And when it inevitably goes wrong, I'll be blaming you."

This was probably going to end horribly, one way or another, but…

"I got the sandwich," Damian pointed out.

"Brat."

Damian smirked.

* * *

Dick grinned when Damian walked into the library. Granted, Damian didn't look all that happy to see him, but he would feel better after they finished.

Dick was honestly a little disappointed in himself for not thinking of this sooner. Sure, Jason was joking around with this, but Dick was taking it seriously. This might be a really good opportunity for Damian to work out any school-related aggression.

And then, maybe, Dick wouldn't have to field any more calls from the school.

Dick hadn't known that was his dream, but, yes. Apparently, it was.

At this point, he was just sad that Bruce hadn't decided to join in.

Damian sighed and sat down on the couch on front of him. "Let's get this over with, Grayson. And get that creepy grin of your face."

"I'm trying to give you the authentic therapy experience, Damian. Lie down. Go on."

Damian shot him a skeptical look, but gave in with only perfunctory grumbling. Dick knew better than to think he was coming around. He just wanted to get finished faster.

"So," Dick started, clasping his hands together. "Damian. What do you think about school?"

The look Damian shot Dick was full of contempt; Dick refused to let it deter him. He was determined to at least work through _some_ of Damian's problems with school.

He wouldn't survive anymore phone calls. He wouldn't.

Dick smiled encouragingly and nodded his head. "This is a safe space, Damian. No judgement."

He narrowed his eyes. "You know that they're watching, don't you?"

Dick pouted. "Okay. So, a semi safe space. With no judgement in the immediate area."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Right."

"So, Damian, tell me: school."

"It's one of the least secure facilities I've ever come across, the people are stupid, the classes are pointless, and it's an overall waste of time."

( _Not encouraging, but not surprising.)_

"Well, Damian, I want to get you to see school differently-"

"Why are you talking like that? You sound ridiculous," Damian groused.

Dick sighed. "Authentic experience. Now, close your eyes and imagine yourself in school. Sitting at your desk. Surrounded by your classmates. Looking at your teacher."

"You sound like a fool."

"Dami," Dick pleaded, slumping slightly. "Please?"

"Tt. Fine."

"Good. Thank you! Now, tell me how that makes you _feel_ \- eyes closed!"

"I'm going to kill, Todd."

"Focus, Little D. School. Feelings. Go. But take your time."

Damian scowled. "It's annoying."

"Good, that's _good._ Why is it annoying?"

"The students are naïve – even some of the adults are. And my teacher thinks she knows better than me, when she's clearly doesn't. She acts like she can tell me what to do, but she has no right. She acts like she can teach me something I don't already know, which isn't true. And she acts like I'm like the rest of them, and I'm not."

Dick nodded, a pained smile gracing his face. He was glad Damian had his eyes closed. "Right. So. Basically, you don't like your teacher."

"Exactly."

"Hmm…" Dick wasn't exactly sure where to go with this. On the one hand, Damian was basically upset that his teacher was acting like… a teacher. On the other, Dick could count on one hand the number of adults that Damian completely respected and willingly listened to. And he didn't need all of his fingers.

"Well, Damian, what do _you_ think should be done about this?"

Put the power in the patient's hands. That was good. He could do this for a living.

"You could convince Father to pull me out of school, since I doubt any other teacher would be better."

"Dami!" He wasn't whining. He wasn't. "Don't you feel like school is… enriching your life?" he asked, a little desperately.

Damian opened his eyes and shot him a look he normally gave Tim or Jason when Tim or Jason was acting too much like Tim or Jason.

( _Huh. I didn't know he had one of those for me.)_

He was a little flattered, in a weird way.

"No enrichment, then."

"It's a waste of time, Grayson. I told you that."

"Okay. But…" Oh! This was perfect. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of this before! "Have you ever thought of school, maybe like a-"

"Okay, this is just getting sad, which is saying a lot because everything you do is sad."

Dick gaped. He could not believe this. "Jason! We're in the middle of something! We're making real progress here! I'm actually pretty sure we're on the verge of a breakthrough-"

"Blah, blah, blah. It's my turn. Leave."

"I'm not done, Jason."

"I will pick you up and carry out. I'm bigger than you."

Dick snorted. "So? You think I can't avoid you?"

"If the two of you are going to do this, I'm leaving."

"No, you're staying. Dick's leaving. Leave."

Dick gaped. He could not believe this. "Jason!"

Jason shrugged, unrepentant. "I've actually got serious stuff to talk about. Life changing stuff. I'm going to turn Damian around, Dick."

"Good luck," Damian snorted.

Dick looked between the two of them and threw his hands up in the air, stalking out of the room. "Thanks a lot, Jason."

"You're welcome."

( _Little brothers.)_

* * *

Jason dropped down into the chair Dick had been occupying and stared at Damian.

"Are you going to make me lie down as well?"

"No, I'm not a weirdo."

"Tt. That's untrue."

Jason rolled his eyes as Damian sat up. Then he stared at him some more. He'd suggested this mostly as a joke – as in, he hadn't thought Dick would actually want to go through with it. Or that Bruce would actually let them. He didn't have anything prepared.

"Are we just going to sit in silence?"

( _Eh. I can wing it.)_

"Miss the sound of my voice?"

"Getting tired of looking at your face," he shot back.

Jason grinned. The kid was a brat, but he was kind of great.

Except, you know.

He was a brat.

"You know, you're a little brat."

"That's certainly helpful. Tell me more."

He snorted. "No, seriously. You're a little brat and you steal people's sandwiches."

Damian glared. "It was my sandwich!"

"And then you threw it at me, and it was mine! That's how this works. But because you're a brat, you don't understand the simple rules of throwing things at people and transferring ownership. And you don't have any friends – because you steal their sandwiches. Probably through misleading truces wherein you agree to attack a third individual with said sandwich."

Damian glared. "I'm as upset about missing an opportunity to attack Drake as you are – probably more-"

"Definitely more."

"But it was about the principle of the matter!"

"The principle was that you threw it at me so it was my sandwich and I only gave it back to you on the terms that you were using it as a weapon."

Damian rolled his eyes so hard it had to hurt. "Are you really that upset about the stupid sandwich, Todd?"

No.

Well, maybe a little.

All he wanted was one or two sandwiches. The real problem here was that Damian didn't know how to share.

"Well, you know, sometimes, it'd be nice if you just shared your sandwiches with me!"

Jason's phone started vibrating in his pocket.

"Fine! You can have some of my sandwiches next time!"

"No take-backs!" Jason cried, pointing at Damian.

"Agreed!"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "Hold on. I gotta' take this." He grabbed his phone and frowned at the caller ID. "What, Tim?"

"Honestly? I just called to tell you that you're pathetic and this is embarrassing me. It's actually hard to watch. So, if you could just, stop, please. Because you're obviously not better than this, but _I'm_ better than this and I don't want to have to watch this anymore."

Jason rolled his eyes. "How is it pathetic if I got him to agree to giving me sandwiches?"

Damian shot him a sneer, which Jason returned readily.

Tim sighed; it wasn't hard for Jason to picture the disdainful expression on his face. "If you can't figure that out, you don't deserve to know."

"You don't deserve to know."

Again, it was easy for Jason to picture Tim's expression, even with the lack of an accompanying sound.

Jason sucked in a breath and clicked his tongue. "Yeah, let's just skip over that one."

"Let's. Now, if you're done here – and you're definitely done here – Cass wants her turn."

"Right."

Jason hung up the phone and stood from his chair. He didn't mind leaving. He'd gotten less time than Dick, but he'd also achieved more: sandwiches.

"Good talk, Babybat."

Damian shot him an incredulous look. "You just extorted sandwiches from me."

( _Exactly.)_

"With guilt," Jason countered. "That means you have a heart. You're almost like a real boy."

Damian snarled. "I _will_ kill you."

Jason smirked and ruffled Damian's hair, dodging away before Damian could swat at him – because his swatting was really more like clawing.

"Go away, Todd!"

Jason cackled as he walked out the room. "I still got the sandwiches!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

Cass smiled as she walked into the room.

"Cain." Damian eyed her carefully. Suspicious. Exasperated. Waiting.

She laughed under her breath and knelt down in front of him.

More suspicious now. Wary.

But her little brother was cute when he glared.

"Cain. What are you doing."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, laughing to herself silently.

Dick would be jealous he hadn't thought if it and used the entire thing as an excuse to cuddle; Dick liked cuddles.

So, did Damian, though he pretended he didn't.

He was stiff. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

"Cain. Stop. You're not Grayson."

She hugged him tighter.

"This is ridiculous! I demand you stop."

Still stiff, awkward, uncomfortable.

She held him until he wasn't. Until he hugged her back.

Grudging. But calm. Relaxed.

That was good. It was better when he was relaxed.

She squeezed him just a little bit tighter before pulling away, smiling at him. He was blushing. It was sweet.

"You're a good little brother, Dami."

Confused. Shy. Embarrassed. Pleased. Pretending not to be.

He should know better with her. But he could be silly sometimes.

She stood up and patted his head fondly. "Bye, Dami."

He grumbled under his breath and avoided making eye contact. "Goodbye, Cain."

She laughed as she walked out.

( _Hugs are good therapy.)_

* * *

"Not you," Damian groaned.

"I would be insulted, but I know you're only saying that to maintain your façade of dislike," Steph said, stepping into the library with a grin.

"Go away, Brown."

"Hey, I'm going to help you turn your life around. Trust me."

"I don't."

She rolled her eyes and then dimmed the lights in the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Creating an atmosphere. It's important. Sit on the floor."

"No."

"Oh, my gosh, why are you so stubborn?" She exclaimed. "Just- sit. The more you cooperate, the faster this will be over."

He glared at her like he didn't believe her, but he sat down on the floor anyone.

( _Good. Step 1 complete.)_

"All right, now, we're going to light this incense."

"What."

She could sense Jason's mocking laughter and Tim's judgmental eyeroll from here. She didn't need it from Damian too.

Did he care?

No.

She set up her incense in a circle around herself and Damian, lighting them all before sitting cross-legged in front of Damian.

"Is this some sort of airborne poison?"

"Then, I'd be killing myself too." She held up a hand. "Don't. Just- whatever you're about to say, don't say it. Because we're about to do something amazing."

Dubious contempt. Better than she'd expected.

She breathed in and out deeply, shaking out her shoulders. "Okay. Sit like me. Come on."

He followed her instructions relunctantly, glaring at her the whole time. "This is some sort of ridiculous prank, isn't it?"

"Oh, my gosh. Christmas was like, weeks ago. Can we not?"

"No."

"That's understandable," she said with a nod. "Now, hold my hands."

He eyed her skeptically.

She sighed. "I don't have cooties, Damian!"

" _What_ are 'cooties'?"

She stared at him despairingly. He just made it so easy. But she couldn't. Not because she didn't want to – she really wanted to – she really, really wanted to – but Dick was watching and he had also become her conscience whenever she talked to Damian.

It wasn't pleasant, and she fully blamed Dick for the entire situation. And it _was_ his fault. He'd spent an hour a day silently watching her with a look of overwhelming disappointment. Every day. For a week.

After the blackmail photos!

It had been a really hard time for her.

"It's a stupid joke, Dami."

He sniffed. "Well, obviously, if you're telling it."

She rolled her eyes.

( _Brat.)_

"Just hold my hands!"

He sighed like this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked him to do – FYI: it wasn't – but grabbed both of her hands obligingly.

"Okay. Now, we're going to meditate."

"This isn't how you meditate, Brown."

"It's a special kind of meditation, Damian," she asserted. "I'm going to take you on a journey through your mind to change your perspective on life."

He was looking at her like a wackjob, which wasn't fair because he knew _reall_ wackjobs. "You can't be serious."

"I am! So, serious. And this stuff actually works. So just, close your eyes and focus on my voice."

"Do I have to?"

"Oh, my gosh, Damian, just do it!"

He heaved another sigh, but closed his eyes.

( _Good. Step 2 completed.)_

Only, now she was winging it.

Because she didn't have any idea what she was talking about. And she wasn't entirely sure it would work for Damian, even if she did know what she was doing. Except she didn't know what she was doing, so that wasn't even a hypothetical she should be considering.

She could do yoga.

She could fight bad guys.

Meditative, mindset shifting, quasi-hypnosis?

Yeah.

Not her gift.

But she couldn't just let Jason show her up!

Sandwiches, man. That had been great.

"What next, Brown?"

"Keep your eye closed. And just… focus on my voice. It's all about visualization. Um… Think of your teacher. Ms. Andrews. Ms. Andrews is a woman. Your teacher. And you don't like her. Probably because she smiles a lot and deep down that display of emotions threatens you for as of yet unresolved traumas. I don't know how you get along with Dick-"

"Brown-"

"Shh!" Steph cleared her throat and took another deep breath. "Ms. Andrews. You don't like her. A lot of hostility. A lot of animosity. A lot of contempt. Just a lot of negative feelings. And you'd think you wouldn't have any left what with all the hitting villains and also Tim. Those should be good outlets. But you still have more. So, it's kind of like you stockpile negativity. And, in the long run, that's not healthy. Just look at Bruce! He's-"

"Brown-"

"Shhhhh! You stockpile negativity and when you're done with villains and also Tim, you direct what's left at your teacher. And the general population. You have a lot of negative feelings about people as a whole. That is also not healthy. All of the negative feeling you possess will just fester and fester and fester and finally boil over and-"

"Brown-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh! Negative feelings. Towards Ms. Andrews. What you need to do is take all of those negative feelings and concentrate on them. Meditate on them. And once you have a good grasp on those feelings, I want you to take them, and I want you to shove them in a box. A box that's more well-protected than the Bat-cave. This box is the most well protected box ever. In the whole world. In all the worlds. And now, all of your negative feelings are locked away in the box and it's locked and you can't reach them because you don't remember the code and you threw the box in the ocean where you'll never find it again and now you have no more negative feelings towards Ms. Andrews and the next time you go to school, you'll like her."

"Brown."

"Yes, Dami?"

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" He opened his eyes and stared at her expectantly.

"That's offensive."

"Because it's true?"

"Because it's mean! I'm trying to help you and you're questioning me."

He stared at her blankly.

She sighed. "This wasn't better than the sandwiches."

"You're insane."

"But you are too, so you can't _really_ hold it against me," she said with a grin. She let go of his hands and stood up, stretching. "Now, help me gather up my incense. I can't believe I wasted these on you."

"You're an idiot."

"Eh," she shrugged. "But you bought it for a second, didn't you?"

"Not on your life, Brown."

"Maybe on Tim's life, though, right?" she asked with a grin.

He tilted his head, conceding.

"I knew it," she laughed.

* * *

Tim walked into the library with about as much enthusiasm as someone walking to their death. Maybe less.

It was really his own fault though. He went along with Jason's schemes once, twice, and now Jason had all these _expectations_.

Tim really should have known better.

He pushed open the door, meeting Damian's glare with a roll of his eyes.

"I don't want to be here anymore than you do. Trust me."

"Then let's get this over with. What ludicrous idea have you come up with, Drake?"

Tim smirked. "I made a power point that illustrates all of your problems; I've had it for a while actually."

Damian scoffed, leaning back into the couch and crossing his arms. "I'm sure it's just as boring as you are."

Tim sat down in the chair across from Damian. "Aren't you a little too narcissistic to think a power point about you is boring?"

Narcissism wasn't actually one of Damian's near endless problems that Tim had listed in the power point.

Did Tim _care_ about being perfectly factual at this moment?

No.

Talking to Damian sometimes required sacrifices. He was willing to make those sacrifices.

Whenever he couldn't avoid talking to Damian in the first place.

Damian sneered. "You can make anything boring, Drake. It's your only talent."

"And what are your talents?" Tim drawled. "Causing chaos? Inciting fear amongst your classmates and innocent elementary school teachers?"

"Do you have anything useful to contribute, Drake?" Damian asked with a glare.

( _Glaring. Wow. That's new. Not predictable or anything.)_

"Everything I do is useful. But, you know, I'd been think for a while that you needed therapy. I can't believe it was Jason who actually got this to happen."

"Maybe people value what Todd has to say more than you. Ever think of that, Drake?"

Tim cocked his head with a smirk. "Are you saying you value Jason? I was about to say I can't wait to tell him, but he can already hear it for himself. I'm sure he's glowing at the compliment."

"I said people value what he has to say more than _you._ That's not saying much, Drake," Damian retorted snidely.

"Fair point," Tim acknowledged with a hum.

Damian gawked. "What?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I live to insult you or something? I don't care that much."

Had Tim set that insult up on purpose?

Yes.

Did that directly contradict what he had just said?

Yes.

Was Damian going to find that out?

No. Not ever.

Damian snorted. "You do know this is pointless, don't you?"

"Obviously. We don't _talk_ out our problems. Healthy people and Dick do that."

He and Damian stared each other briefly.

"… I can beat you in a fight – Bo staffs."

Tim scoffed. "1: Wow, that's arrogant. But not surprising. 2: Physical 'therapy' is the best idea I've heard all day."

"Is that a compliment, Drake?"

Tim smirked, standing from his chair. "I said it was the best idea I'd hear all day. That's not saying much."

"Tt." Damian stood up and walked out of his room, clearly suppressing his own smirk.

Tim wondered if Dick would be horrified or pleased with this outcome.

( _Probably a little bit of both.)_

* * *

"Are you planning on sitting here all night?"

Grayson looked over his shoulder at him with a slight grin. "Why not? It's the best seat in the house?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "We have places to be."

Grayson's grin only grew as stood from his crouch and leapt onto the rooftop from his perch on the gargoyle. "Yeah, but, I was just thinking."

He sounded a bit too enthusiastic.

Damian raised an eyebrow warily. "What?"

"What if," Grayson began, a bit breathlessly, "you thought of school as a mission? You know what I mean? You don't necessarily like it and you have to put up with people you don't like, but it's something you have to get done, you know?"

Grayson looked ridiculously hopeful, even from behind the mask.

"Don't be stupid, Nightwing. Today was a huge waste of time, which only goes to prove that school is pointless and leads to even more pointless activities."

Grayson looked a little heartbroken. Which was awkward. And pathetic. And made Damian feel a little bit guilty because Grayson's heartbroken face made it look like Damian had just kicked his puppy. Or like he was the puppy who had been kicked.

And Damian didn't condone animal abuse.

He heaved a sigh and patted Grayson on the shoulder in what he hoped was a vaguely comforting but perfunctory manner.

"You tried, Gr- Nightwing. Granted, you were hoping to achieve foolish aims and you clearly failed, but you did try."

Grayson grimaced slightly before huffing out a laugh. "Thanks, Robin. Now, let's repress my, apparently, abysmal failure and go hit people."

Damian nodded, smirking slightly. "Let's. And convince Father to pull me out of school when we get home, will you?"

"Not a chance," Grayson said, shaking his head with a bright smile. "I still have hope."

Damian snorted and rolled his eyes.

( _Ridiculous.)_


	17. Valentine's Day

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like make Valentines' Day Cards.

* * *

"Okay, we've got chocolate and candy. Who gets candy for Valentine's Day?" Brown asked, frowning at the piles she had sorted on the floor.

"Grayson," Damian answered, turning up the volume on the television in hopes of drowning out whatever rant Brown was about to go on.

"Dick likes options," Cain said, shrugging.

"Valentine's Day is for chocolate only. Those are the rules. Other candy is ridiculous!"

"No," Damian growled. "What's ridiculous is that Grayson bought all of this _junk_ in hopes that I would take it to school and pass it out to my classmates. As if they deserve my consideration."

"That's the spirit, Dami," Brown said, smirking.

Damian shot her a glare and snorted. "If you eat all of that, you're going to get fat. You're barely useful as it is; it'd be pointless to keep you in the field then."

She rolled her eyes, an unsatisfactory response, but Damian had learned to take what he could get from Brown. She rarely ever rose to his baiting.

( _Annoying.)_

"I'm not going to eat it _all._ We're going to share. Right, Cass?"

Cain nodded. "Dami can have some too."

"I don't want any," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Your loss," Brown said, grinning. "So, Cass, what colors do you want? Pink, red, or white?"

"Hmm. What colors, Dami?"

Damian stared at his sister blankly. Like he cared what color she painted her nails.

She stared back.

He sighed. "All of them."

Cain nodded. "Good choice."

"That is actually a good choice. I'm impressed. If you want, I'll even paint-"

"Go die, Brown."

She cackled and twisted open one bottle. "You're no fun. You're never going to get a girlfriend if you keep up that attitude – and then you'll be all alone on the most romantic holiday of the year!"

"Romantic relationships are an unnecessary distraction, Brown."

She clucked her tongue. "You'll understand when you're older."

He scowled at her and turned the volume up on the television. "Stop talking."

She snickered. "What do you think, Cass. Is romance a waste of time?"

Cain shrugged. "Depends. It's hard to date," she said, gesturing to the scars covering her bare arms.

Brown scoffed. "Please, Cass. You're gorgeous. Besides, guys love girls with scars," she grinned and flexed her arm, pointing to a scar along her bicep.

Damian snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Brown looked at him with a grin. "Uh, it's pretty self-explanatory. Scars make women more attractive. Men can't get enough."

Damian scowled, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't seen any men chasing after you, Brown."

"That's because I hide my scars so I don't have to beat them off with a stick," she shot back.

"I was under the impression you hid your scars to avoid revealing your identity. I should have known you weren't that conscientious."

"You're a tiny jerk."

"I hate you," Damian growled.

"Yeah, well, you're just jealous that me and Cass have a bunch of scars and are super popular but all the girls at your school are scared of you!"

"I sincerely doubt that anyone likes _you_ , Brown."

"You know Tim and I were dating, right? And he's the pickiest person I have ever met! What do you think made him go out with me?"

"You smashed a brick in his face," Cain stated.

"Exactly," Damian said with a smirk. "He's a masochist, but we already knew that."

Brown rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You'll totally get it when you're older, Dami; girls with scars are _hot."_

Damian snorted and went back to watching television, but couldn't help thinking over what Brown had said. He wasn't sure if it was true or not, but he couldn't discount Brown's words completely.

Drake and Brown had been in a relationship, and that said more about her bad taste than his.

He'd never heard of his sister dating anyone, but he supposed she was fairly attractive. Perhaps her scars contributed to that.

And his father and mother had been involved with one another; his mother was beautiful – and most certainly scarred.

Damian frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was credit Brown with being reasonable or _truthful,_ of all things, but it did seem like – in this _one_ particular instance – she was right.

"If scarring is the reason men find women attractive, how do women not in our line of work find boyfriends and husbands?"

Cain shook her head, smiling slightly.

"Am I a bad person?" Brown asked, staring at the ceiling.

 _(She's ridiculous.)_

"Yes," Damian affirmed. "Now answer the question."

"Well, with an attitude like that, why should I?"

"Men don't _only_ like scars," Cain interjected.

Damian furrowed his brow. "Just one factor of many, hmm? But an important one, no?"

"Why does this matter to you?" Brown asked, practically shouting.

Damian arched an eyebrow at her, sneering. "I don't expect you to understand, Brown, but I prefer to accumulate as much knowledge as possible."

She sighed heavily. "I don't even know how to feel right now."

"Useless," Damian asserted. "You should feel useless. Thank you for the information, Cain. _You_ have once again proven yourself to be an invaluable asset."

"Okay, pointedly leaving me out is such a passive-aggressive Tim move."

"I will end you, Brown."

" _Tim. Move."_

Damian glared at her and stood up. He grabbed the remote and snatched up as many chocolates as he could carry, sneering as he passed by her.

She squawked indignantly. "How could you? You could've at least taken the candy!"

"I did that on purpose, Brown!"

"I hope your teacher calls home tomorrow!"

Damian scoffed as he stalked out of the room.

( _Like that'll happen.)_

* * *

"All right, class! It's time to open up our bags and make our Valentine's cards!"

Damian scowled at Andrews' nauseating enthusiasm. Then he scowled at the general atmosphere of the classroom.

( _Disgusting.)_

Damian would have preferred blood spatter to the decorations that Andrews had put up. Anyone with half a brain and a basic comprehension of the principles of aesthetics would have preferred blood spatter to the decorations that Andrews had put up.

Andrews, of course, had neither. Not really surprising, but she still managed to lower herself to new depths as time passed.

So, Damian was forced to suffer through tacky red hearts, an excess of pink and white ruffles, and shoddy cutouts of an ugly winged baby holding a dangerous weapon while wearing a diaper – something the Arrows would undoubtedly appreciate, but that no normal person would consider anything other than disturbing.

And it wasn't just school. Only his father's quick thinking had prevented Grayson from sullying the manner with similar décor.

Valentine's day had quickly surpassed Christmas to become his least favorite holiday. It was almost impressive, really.

Damian frowned up at Andrews as she placed a basket of supplies on his desk.

Arts and crafts? Really? He wasn't a child.

She gave him a strange smile and continued on to the next desk.

Damian looked down at the basked she had left, tipping it over and glaring at the contents.

Construction paper. Markers. Stickers. Glue. Tape. Scissors.

 _Glitter._

Damian snarled silently.

"Okay," Andrews said, clapping her hands and smiling. "Well, how about we look at our chocolate first and then make our cards?"

Damian heaved a sigh and grabbed the bag hanging off the side of his desk. He stared at it, unimpressed.

Andrew grinned at them. "Everyone, thank your classmates for the candy they gave you!"

"I will do no such thing!" Damian protested.

Andrews whimpered oddly.

"You expect me to accept strange food from an unknown source?"

"Damian… please. It's from your classmates…"

"And how do I know that they haven't taken their time to poison the chocolates before giving them to me? This would be the easiest way to murder me should any of them desire to, and I have no doubt that more than one of them harbor petty grudges against me," Damian stated, standing from his seat and glaring at his classmates suspiciously.

"... I don't think your classmates want to kill you, Damian," Andrews refuted.

Weakly, at that. In fact, she didn't sound like she believed a word she was saying.

"Tt. Whatever you do or do not believe is of no concern, Andrews. The facts remain. Or, perhaps there isn't an individual grudge. Perhaps one of these students is a mass murderer and they poisoned all of the chocolates before handing them out in order to commit a massacre. Killers are getting younger every day."

( _I would know.)_

Andrews looked like she wanted to cry.

Which was good. She should feel like crying in the face possible depravity and her carelessness in dealing with it.

"Did you screen these chocolates before they were passed out, Andrews? How can you be sure they aren't poisoned? How can you be sure that all of your students won't end up dead because you encouraged this foolish tradition that leaves me and my peers vulnerable to attack from anyone wishing us harm? Did you consider our safety? Or were you concerned only with satisfying your own childhood fantasies of receiving Valentine's Day chocolates?"

"I- If you don't want your candy, you can give it to someone else, Damian."

Damian narrowed his eyes. It was like she wasn't even listening to him. "And give out candy that could be compromised? Do you even care about what happens to your students, Andrews? Or are you being willfully blind?"

Andrews' shoulders shook slightly, making Damian frown. He wanted her to feel guilt at her reckless endangerment, but he didn't actually want her to break down in the middle of class.

"Calm yourself, Andrews," Damian ordered. "This situation can be easily remedied; all of us need to throw away our chocolate."

The outcry from his classmates was deafening.

( _They're more concerned with eating candy than living. Idiots.)_

"Fools!" Damian snarled, cutting their protests off. "Would you rather die?!"

Honestly, the effort Damian put in to protecting civilians only to be met with illogical protests…

It was hard to believe sometimes.

"But-"

"No 'buts', Callahan. If you want to die, you're welcome to gorge yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you. Not that you'd be able to in the first place. You'd be dead."

Damian stared at him coolly while walking to the trash can. He threw his bag away and cocked an eyebrow.

It was easy to see when Callahan cracked.

The boy sniffled slightly, but stood from his chair, grabbing his bag and walking over to Damian, tossing it in the trash.

The rest of the students followed hesitantly, some crying more than others.

Their emotional distress was a price Damian was more than willing to pay for their continued living.

Damian turned to Andrews, nodding at her, certain she appreciated the actions he had taken for the class' overall protection.

She crumpled further in on herself.

Damian's brow furrowed.

( _What's wrong with her now? I don't- Ah…)_

"Not to worry, Andrews. I have no problem going around the school and informing the other classes of the dangers that they're in. I only hope I can reach them before it's too late."

"No!" She shouted, straightening up. "I'll do it. I'm the teacher."

Damian nodded approvingly, walking back to his seat as the last student threw away her bag.

"Of course. It's good to see you taking responsibility, Andrews. You should take some pride in that."

She was shaking again, harder this time.

Damian arched an eyebrow.

"I'll- I'll just go take care of that. Class… Why don't you start on your cards?"

She shot Damian a look he couldn't decipher, but he chose not to focus on it. After all, she was heading out of the door to warn the other students and teachers. He could let her strangeness slide this once.

He sat down and scowled.

Cards.

Pointless sentimentality.

( _Ugh.)_

He might as well get started, or he'd just be wasting the last ten minutes of class doing nothing.

Not that this wasn't a complete waste of time in and of itself.

He sighed, holding up a piece of red paper. He could make one for Cain, he supposed. It was reasonably expected for a little brother to give a card to his sister. Of course, if he made one for her, Brown would complain loudly about how he hadn't given her one. Probably during patrol, just to annoy him more. So, it would be best to make her one to preempt her complaints.

Grayson would probably want one as well, but there was only so much indignity Damian could suffer. There was no way he would _encourage_ it. And there was no way Grayson wouldn't demand to hug him after receiving a card.

He would probably _coo._

Damian cringed.

No card for Grayson.

Father and Pennyworth would both likely consider cards a waste of time, being the mature adults they were. So, thankfully, none for them.

Damian nodded and grabbed a second sheet of paper – a glaringly obnoxious pink.

( _The perfect shade for Brown's card.)_

Damian folded each sheet in half and grabbed the glue, sneering as he drew a heart on the front of each card.

He took a breath, bracing himself as he grabbed the glitter.

He hated glitter.

"You know, I can't wait to give this to Jake. You think he'll be my Valentine, Ashley?"

Damian paused his work, looking over at the girl next to him with a scowl. "You sound ridiculous, Ackers."

She jumped slightly, turning to him hesitantly. "I- why?"

"Tt. For one, romance is a waste of time. It's a pointless institution that distracts from things that truly matter."

After all, if his father had a girlfriend, he wouldn't have nearly so much time to dedicate to protecting Gotham.

"It's about priorities, Ackers. You can either spend your time on frivolous pursuits or you can do something worthwhile. Besides, you're far too young to be concerned with procreation, so entering into a romantic entanglement would be doubly pointless."

Damian nodded sharply and went back to his cards.

Honestly. This holiday was filling people's heads with all sorts of foolishness.

"I-I- I just like Jake," Ackers responded quietly.

Damian rolled her eyes, continuing his work. "Well, if you insist on pursuing this, and refuse to listen to reason, the least you can do is put effort into it. A simple card won't be enough to attract anyone's attention."

"Well, what should she do?" Bennett interjected, leaning across her friend's desk.

"A-Ashley!"

"What? He's a boy. Sort of."

"I am very clearly male, Bennett," Damian replied, pursing his lips at her.

She nodded. "Exactly. And you know a bunch of stuff. So, what should she do if she wants Jake to like her?"

Damian suppressed a sigh.

This was what his life had come to? Giving relationship advice to his female classmates?

He was vaguely ashamed.

Still, if it was in his power to help his classmates, he should make something of an effort. It might even get Grayson off his back about his lack of "friendships".

"Well," Damian started, "Ackers doesn't have much to offer in general, given her age, assets, and capabilities – or lack thereof."

"I-is it that bad?"

Damian hummed slightly, putting the finishing touches on his cards. "It could be worse," he admitted. "But it could certainly be better. Perhaps… Do you have any scars, Ackers?"

"Scars? I, uh no?"

"It's a simple question," he said, exasperated.

"I don't."

"What does that matter?" Bennet asked.

She was becoming increasingly annoying. It was almost commendable that she had managed to rise above the average baseline of irritation that Damian's classmates caused.

"It should be obvious: males appreciate females more when they have ample scarring."

"Really?" Bennet questioned.

"Don't sound so incredulous, Bennet. You're asking me because I have more knowledge on male preference, aren't you?"

"Well, what do I do?" Ackers asked. "I don't have any scars."

Damian looked up, frowning at her. She looked like she was about to cry. He'd never hear the end of it if he made a girl cry.

Again.

"Calm down, Ackers. You don't have enough inherently redeeming qualities to outweigh your lack of scars, but there's a simple solution. Self-mutilation under the careful watch of a parental guardian would be advisable if you truly wish to gain the affections of… 'Jake'."

Damian watched the two of them exchange a confused look.

"What's that?"

He couldn't help sighing aloud.

What did they teach in schools?

Oh, right.

Nothing useful.

"Self-mutilation is the-"

"Aaghhhh…"

Damian looked towards the door at the strangled sound.

"Ah, Andrews, you've returned. Did you manage to save the rest of the school before any fatalities occurred?"

The look on her face was similar to the expression criminals made when they realized he had caught them: a normally satisfying combination of terror and dread.

In this instance, the look was anything but comforting.

( _That can only mean bad news.)_

Damian scowled darkly.

He knew he should have warned the other classes himself.

* * *

"Tim! Tim! It's happening! It's finally happening! Get the girls; come quick!"

Dick ignored Jason, an impressive feat considering he was 6 feet tall, well over 200 pounds, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Or, not impressive at all considering Dick was consumed with dread due to the fact that the phone was ringing.

The phone was ringing.

Damian's school was calling.

Dick had never actually thought it was possible for an entire school and its staff to be his nemesis, but…

Here they were.

"Maybe I can ignore it?" Dick wondered.

"Dick, if you don't pick up that phone, I'll put on your costume for tonight's patrol and just start shooting people. Dressed as Nightwing."

Dick gaped.

"That's a terrifying thought," Tim said, walking into the room with the girls trailing after him.

Steph looked inappropriately gleeful.

( _What's wrong with this family?)_

"Please," Jason scoffed. "His reputation could use a little tarnishing."

"Actually, I meant you wearing his suit considering the difference in measurements. There's really only so much trauma Gothamites can survive, Jason."

Steph grinned. "On the bright side, the villains would take one look at him and run away in horror."

"Oh, haha. I'll have you know I could rock a skintight body suit."

"Doubtful," Tim said, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what? You can take your negativity and shove it in the box you store all of your non-derisive emotions in. I don't need you!"

"The phone," Cass interrupted.

Dick would have been grateful for the interruption. Really grateful, if he was being honest. That conversation was going all kinds of nowhere plus half a dozen broken vases fast.

So, yeah, he would have been grateful.

Except Cass had brought their attention back to the phone.

 _That was still ringing._

Why did everyone hate him?

What had he done?

He worked really hard. He smiled at people. He gave his siblings hugs.

He _tried_ , okay?

He didn't deserve this!

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Jason asked, smirking.

"It's the end of the day!" Dick protested. "Damian will be home in, like, 10 minutes! How are they calling?"

"Demon works miracles," Tim said sagely, dropping down onto the couch.

"Preach, Tim!" Steph exclaimed, pulling Cass down on the couch with her and squishing Tim underneath the two of them.

He deserved it.

"Where's Bruce? I need Bruce to answer this. I'm done with this school. The teachers call kids psychopaths. They call at all hours of the day-"

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Tim stated dryly.

"Bruce should handle this. Where is he?"

"Work," Cass offered.

"Since when does he actually go into work?"

"Stop trying to shirk your responsibilities, Dick," Jason demanded. "Answer the phone."

"I'm not going to!"

"Answer it!"

"You can't make me!"

"You owe this to us!"

"No, I really don-"

Dick stopped in his tracks, turning away from Jason to look at the phone.

It had stopped ringing.

Tears of relief weren't pooling in his eyes, but it was a close thing.

"How could you?" Jason asked.

He sounded genuinely betrayed, which was actually kind of impressive. Or, it would be. If he weren't serious.

There was a moment of silence.

"So, I hope you know I'm taking pictures of you in Nightwing's suit and that I will personally terrorize you for the rest of your life if you don't follow through with wearing that," Tim said plainly.

"Oh my gosh, Tim, there are more important things going on here. We missed the call!" Steph protested.

"No, he's totally right," Jason admitted. "And you should know better, Timmy. I don't welch on my bets."

Tim stared at him blankly. "What do I address first? The fact that you used that phrase unironically, the fact that this wasn't technically a bet, so saying that isn't actually applicable, or the fact that that is patently untrue? I'm not picky."

"You are," Cass argued.

"I am. But I'm willing to be flexible here."

"You know what, Tim?"

"What, Jason?"

"I'm going to pour out all of your coffee."

"I'll steal all your cigarettes."

"Jokes on you: I quit!"

"Because I conditioned you."

"Ooh!" Steph yelled, smiling.

Jason faltered. "I can't tell if that's true or not. And I'm honestly not sure how I'd respond if it _were._ "

Dick dropped his head into his hands. If Jason had given up on cigarettes, that meant there was room for another bad habit in the family, right?

Dick could become an alcoholic. That might be nice.

Or he could just go eat some cereal. Actually, that sounded better. He was going to go get some cereal right now.

 _*Ring*_

Dick froze.

The dread was back.

"It's ringing again!" Jason said, pointing at the phone. "It's the school!"

Cue sarcastic comment from Tim about stating the obvious:

"This is amazing. I'm so happy right now. Jason, this is the best thing. I didn't think they'd call back," Tim said, a little in awe.

"I know, Tim. I know."

Even when his family was defying his expectations and supporting one another, they were still against him.

It's like they wanted to see him in pain.

"Answer it!" Steph ordered.

"You know, I was going to go get some cereal, so-"

"Answer," Cass stated, staring at him.

They were all staring at him.

What had he done to deserve this?

Dick sighed.

( _Might as well get it over with.)_

He picked up the phone, putting it on speaker when it looked like Jason was about to jump him. "Hello?"

"Uh, hello?"

It was Stacy. Correction: It was Stacy, highly stressed.

"This is Dick Grayson, can I help you?"

Maybe if he feigned ignorance and pretended that there was nothing wrong, he could will the conversation to not be as horrible as he was imagining it would be.

"Uh, hi. This is Ms. Andrews – Stacy. Damian's teacher."

"Yeah, I remember. Is everything okay?"

They were all snickering in the background. He wanted to call them traitors, but Jason would just call him a drama queen and Steph would laugh and Cass would shrug and Tim would tell him that they were never on his side to begin with and he just really didn't need that right now.

He could use some support actually.

But that wasn't happening any time soon.

"Well," Stacy began, hesitating slightly. "Today, in class, we were passing out chocolates and making cards for Valentine's Day. Um… well, Damian suggested that all of the chocolates were poisoned and convinced his classmates to throw all of their candy away."

Jason had collapsed onto the arm of the couch; he looked like he was having trouble breathing. Steph and Cass were holding on to each other like their lives depended on it. Dick hadn't seen Tim smile like that for weeks.

"I see," Dick replied.

What else could he say?

"Ah, well, um. He wanted to tell all of the other classes about the poisoned chocolate, so I told him I would do it and stepped out of the classroom for a little while to- think."

Think.

 _Think._

AKA cry on the floor in the hallway and curse myself for ever deciding to become a teacher.

"Right. That's… unfortunate." That was about as neutral a word as Dick could find.

Which wasn't promising.

"…Yes. But, then I went back to class only… he was telling his classmates about… self-mutilation."

There was abrupt stillness.

Dick lowered his head to the table.

This was it.

This was the end.

The end of what?

Dick's sanity, obviously.

He'd only had so much left after everything he'd been through.

"Uh… Dick?"

"I'm still here," Dick replied emotionlessly.

"Well, what did Mr. Wayne say about therapy, again?"

There was a shrieking laugh behind him. Dick was pretty sure it was Jason.

"What was that?" Stacy asked, panicked.

"What was what? I didn't hear anything."

"I- are you sure? It sounded like someone was screaming."

"No, I didn't hear anything like that. About the… you know, what? Is he going to be in detention or something?"

"Uh… no. There's going to be another note in his file. Two, actually. The vice-principle advised that we leave you to handle the actual discipline."

"Okay. I'll talk to him when he- actually, that was the door. I'm going to talk to him about it now. Thank you for calling, Stacy."

"I- of course. Have a nice day."

"You too."

As soon as Dick hung up the phone, Jason, Cass, Steph, and Tim broke down laughing.

"So, you do have some restraint," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

( _Oh no. I sound like Bruce!)_

"What are you buffoons cackling about?"

Dick turned, managing a grimace in Damian's direction. Not that he noticed, seeing as he was glaring condescendingly at the others.

They stopped laughing to look at him. Jason and Steph collapsed back in to laughter. Cass shrugged at him, smiling. Tim just stared.

He stared, and stared, and then he started grinning in a way that really just made Dick want to take a nap and block out his entire life.

"Oh. My. Gosh."

"What?" Damian snarled, shoulders hunching defensively.

"You're covered in glitter. You're covered in glitter!"

Damian's entire face went red. "Shut up, Drake! I am not!"

"He is!" Steph said, gasping sharply and hitting Jason to catch his attention. "He's covered in it!"

"Brown-"

"Tim, Tim, why aren't you taking pictures?" Jason demanded.

"Probably because I'm being suffocated by a combined 450 pounds' worth of people."

Jason stood immediately, dragging Steph and Cass off of Tim.

Dick nodded, pursing his lips. "Wow."

"We were manhandled for the sake of pictures, Tim," Steph said. "Take _all_ of the pictures."

"Drake, if you get out your phone, I will ensure your destruction."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Tim said, pulling out his phone.

Damian looked poised to run. Apparently, Dick wasn't the only one who noticed, seeing as Jason stomped over to their youngest brother and hoisted him in the air.

Dick was pretty sure this was going down a dangerous path.

Steph cackled, clapping her hands before throwing her arms around Cass. "Is this not the best day ever?"

"Todd," Damian said softly. "Put. Me. Down."

"Hmm. Let me think about it and get back to you."

"Okay!" Dick interrupted. "Can we put a pin in whatever this is?"

Preferably before blood was shed; after all, there was only so much Dick could take in one day.

They all turned to him – except Tim, who was ignoring him and taking pictures. Which was fine, as long as Damian didn't notice, because, if he did, then he would start fighting Jason to attack Tim; and there was an 70% chance that Jason would help by launching Damian at Tim so that he could pull out his own phone to start recording.

"There are more important things to discuss."

"Dick," Steph began, "there really isn't anything more important than Damian covered in glitter."

She had a point. Damian hated glitter with a worrying passion. While Steph was probably talking about the hilariousness of Damian being covered in glitter – and it _was_ pretty funny – Dick was more concerned with how little time there was before Damian started lashing out in a glitter-induced rage.

He was already really close – especially because Jason was holding him.

Why was Jason holding him? What was wrong with Jason?

No.

Dick was getting distracted and he couldn't _afford_ to be distracted.

"There _is_ something more important than Damian covered in glitter," Dick retorted.

"I am not covered in glitter!"

He was _so_ in denial.

"What are you talking about, Dick?" Tim asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Self-mutilation."

Jason dropped Damian. Which, wow.

( _Great big brother skills, Jay.)_

Steph gasped sharply, hugging Cass closer. "How could we forget about that?"

"Glitter is distracting," Cass stated.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," Tim said, pulling his phone back out.

Damian shot an "I promise that you'll regret this" glare at Jason before sniffing and turning to Dick.

"What about it?" he asked, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow.

Dick slumped. He really wished he had someone to commiserate him right now. Where was Bruce when you needed him? Where was _Alfred_?

( _Probably avoiding our craziness like any sane person would.)_

"Why were you telling your classmates mutilate themselves?"

"Shouldn't it be obvious?" Damian asked. "I was helping them; I assumed you'd be pleased I was making an effort."

"Who needs enemies?" Tim quipped.

Damian turned to Tim with a snarl. "Well, you certainly-"

"Can we get back on topic?" Dick pleaded. "How did that help, Dami?"

Damian had the gall to look exasperated with him. "Honestly, Grayson. Ackers was attempting to win the affections of another student, so I offered her my advice."

Jason dropped onto his knees. "Babybat is giving love advice."

"This is the best day. Ever," Steph declared. "I'm so happy right now."

Damian eyed them judgingly, which was completely warranted.

"Let me just… see if I got this," Dick started. "You told your classmate to mutilate herself so her crush would like her."

"Yes," Damian said, nodding. "After all, males prefer females with more bodily scarring, so self-mutilation under the watchful eye of a guardian would be the best way to gain her target's attention."

Dick… didn't honestly know how to feel. Because, on one hand: aww, sweet! Damian was trying to help his classmate. On the other…

Self-mutilation.

Dick took a breath, but paused, noticing the way Cass and Steph were staring at the floor.

"Please, no." He wasn't begging. Except he kind of was. "Cass. Steph. Please."

"Oh, this is amazing."

"Seriously, Tim?" Dick cried.

He shrugged unrepentantly.

Jason just kept looking at Steph, Cass, and Damian in anticipation.

"Okay," Steph exclaimed, holding her hands up. "It's not what you think."

"What are you going on about, Brown?"

"We were we just talking and eating candy, and me and Cass were talking and Damian was there and I just sort of said that guys like girls with scars – because it's hot, okay! There's nothing wrong with that! I didn't _do_ anything! How was I supposed to know he would take it to heart, anyway? He never listens to me!"

Damian narrowed his eyes. "Were you lying?"

"No!" Steph protested. "I was being serious! But I didn't think you'd tell a little girl to cut herself to make herself more attractive! That's not on me, Dick!"

Dick was so accustomed to the feeling of helpless confusion that was overcoming him that he just nodded sadly.

"Damian," he started. And then he stopped. "That was very nice of you to try and help your classmate, but, you know, what someone likes in another person is really subjective. Also, don't ever take anything Steph says to heart. Ever."

"Hey!"

Damian nodded. "Very well, Grayson."

"So," Tim began, "should we just ban Steph from telling Damian things or what?"

Jason shook his head sharply. "No way. She always manages to make something amazing happen. Why would you want to take that away from me?"

"I'm just looking out for Dick," Tim said.

He was definitely lying. In a weird way, Dick appreciated it.

"What does he matter?" Jason asked.

"That's hurtful."

"Shut up, Dick."

Tim shrugged. "I'm just saying, he doesn't look like he'll last much longer. There's only so many times he can piece together the tattered remains of his sanity and still come out as a vaguely functioning individual."

"I can't tell if I'm grateful or not," Dick murmured.

"Who cares about his sanity?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a horrible person, Todd?"

"Takes one to know one, brat."

"What about the chocolates?" Cass interrupted, cocking her head slightly.

Dick grimaced. "Honestly? Paranoia is so par for the course I can't even be bothered."

"It wasn't paranoia, Grayson. It was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to make."

"You do realize that your teacher never warned any of the other classes, right?"

Why did Tim hate him?

Damian scowled. "Don't be ridiculous, Drake. Andrews may be incompetent, but I doubt she'd let hundreds of people die."

"You have that much faith in her? What do you think, Jason? Is she that trustworthy? She doesn't even know the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath; do you really think she'd take a possible threat seriously?"

Tim was destroying his soul. Dick wondered if this was payback for stealing his coffee earlier this morning.

Damian froze.

( _Oh no.)_

"Grayson, we have to-"

"Glitter!" Dick interrupted. "You should probably wash off the glitter."

Jason was laughing at him, but did Dick care? No, he didn't. Because Jason was a jerk and working with Tim to ruin Dick's life.

Damian wrinkled his nose. "Fine," he conceded through gritted teeth. He pulled his backpack off of his shoulder, rummaging around in it before pulling out two pieces of paper and holding them out to Cass and Steph. "I shouldn't be giving you this seeing as you perpetually lead me astray, but I refuse to waste my work, even if the whole concept is pointless. The nauseating pink shade is for you, Brown."

Dick stared, open mouthed.

Actually, everyone was gaping.

Which was really the only reaction anyone could possibly have.

Damian had made the girls Valentine's Day cards!

Dick could practically feel the stress melting off of him.

This was literally the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and he couldn't believe that he had been dreading sending Damian back to school tomorrow. School made wonderful things happen.

"Awww!" Dick cooed, reaching out and pulling Damian into a hug. "Little D, that's so sweet! You made them cards! The glitter!"

"Do you have some sort of emotional whiplash?" Tim asked, disturbed.

Dick stuck his tongue out. "Cards, Tim. Cards."

Dick smiled as Steph and Cass took the cards from Damian. Steph looked shell-shocked and Cass was smiling. Appropriate reactions.

"What? I don't get one?" Jason asked sarcastically.

Inappropriate reaction.

Dick shot a look at Jason; Jason ignored him.

Damian snorted, pulling out of Dick's hold and crossing his arms. "Consider yourself lucky I even acknowledge your existence, Todd."

"Hashtag blessed," Tim drawled.

Jason barked a laugh. "There's something wrong with you."

"Yeah: I hang around all of you."

"Seriously, guys? Damian just did something really sweet-"

"It wasn't 'sweet', Grayson. It was obligatory."

"Don't ruin this for me, Dami. Please."

Damian rolled his eyes, but acquiesced.

Finally. Someone who cared.

"'I must admit, you're only half as useless as I stated, Brown. Don't get fat off of chocolate.' Seriously? Seriously?"

Dick grinned. "That's honestly one of the nicest things he's ever said about you. That's great, Dami."

Damian nodded, preening slightly.

"Is it just me or does Dick have really low standards for Damian?" Tim asked with a smirk.

"I know, right? I mean, I work so hard to lower his expectations, but he still holds me to some ridiculous standard: don't shoot people, Jason. Don't steal Tim's stuff, Jason. Don't smoke in the house, Jason."

"Didn't you quit?"

"You're really missing the point, Babybird. Also, the way you're smirking is still making me question whether or not you _conditioned me._ "

"Oh, it worked? Hmm, I'd be impressed, but Todd isn't exactly difficult to influence."

"You knew?!"

Damian rolled his eyes. "It was obvious what he was doing. Though I'm not surprised you didn't notice."

"Can we get back to the backhand compliment in my card?" Steph whined.

"It wasn't any type of compliment; I was stating a fact."

"See!" Dick said, grinning. "It's a fact that he doesn't think you're as useless as he says! Isn't that great?"

Steph stared at him. "You're really reaching, and it's sad."

"Everything he does is sad."

Dick turned, smile dimming slightly. "The fact that the two of you said that simultaneously really hurts, you know that?"

"But if just one of us had said it, it would have been okay?" Jason drawled, arching an eyebrow.

"You've got to want better for yourself, Dick," Tim offered, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you enjoy making me miserable?"

"Absolutely," Jason affirmed.

"I wouldn't say I enjoy it; it's more like a compulsion really. I don't think I can help myself," Tim explained with a shrug.

"I'm so done with you all," Steph interjected. "What does your card say, Cass?"

"'Though I put no stock in this holiday, I do value you, Cain, so I wish you an enjoyable day.'"

Dick put a hand to his chest. Wow. How was he supposed to handle something that amazing?

He couldn't.

"Okay, that was actually nice," Jason said. He looked vaguely scandalized.

"Thank you, Dami," Cass said, giving him hug.

He wrinkled his nosed, blushing a bit. "Again. It was obligatory."

( _So. Cute.)_

Cass just hummed lightly.

"Oh, what the heck? Thanks, Dami." Steph smiled and joined the hug.

Damian looked exasperated, but didn't bother fighting.

Dick clapped. "That's perfect. Tim, are you getting this?"

"Uh, no? Why would I?"

Dick stared at him. "You live to make me miserable. That's your true calling."

He shrugged again, barely suppressing a grin. "I told you. I can't control it."

"I'm taking pictures, Dick," Jason said.

"Thank you!"

"But you totally owe me."

Dick pouted. "It's for the scrapbook!"

Jason shrugged flippantly. "Maybe next time, you'll pick up the phone on the first ring. I'm totally taking your suit tonight, by the way."

"Ah! No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Jason, no!"

"Jason, yes!"

"Why do you hate me?"

"If I hated you, I wouldn't be doing you this favor, would I? We all know I'll look better in it than you ever could."

( _Okay, that's just offensive.)_

"If the two of you get into another competition about who has the better body, I'm recording it and sending it to everyone we know," Tim said.

"You shouldn't disseminate obscene materials, Drake. There's a law against that."

Dick sighed. Why did the two of them only agree when it came to making fun of him or Jason?

Steph snorted. "I love that you're not even asking for more context."

"I have no desire to know what sort of ridiculousness the two of them get into when I'm not around. I have to deal with too much of it already," Damian said, shouldering his backpack.

"Damian!" Dick protested.

He snorted. "I'm going to go get rid of this _glitter._ You, Cain, and Brown should do the same; you're covered in it."

"Whose fault is that?" Steph asked.

"Your own; you shouldn't have hugged me," Damian countered.

"Well you shouldn't have made Valentine's Day cards!"

"You're blaming me?"

"You can't do nice things and expect not to get punished."

Tim snorted. "And, once again, Steph is sending Damian the wrong messages."

Jason laughed. "You realize this is the reason why she's above you on my list of favorite family members, right?"

"Thank goodness. I'd know I was doing something wrong if I were towards the top of your list."

"Wow."

"You're all insane," Damian muttered, shaking his head and stalking out of the room.

"You realize insanity if hereditary, right? Jason called after him.

"I'm not related to any of you!"

"Where do you think we got it from?"

"Jason, just stop," Tim ordered. "There's _no_ logic in your argument."

"Shut up, Tim."

Dick sighed. At least he wasn't alone in his craziness.

"I'm going to go get some cereal. Happy Valentine's Day, guys."

"You too!"

"Happy Valentine's Day, Dick."

"If you keep eating cereal, you're going to gain weight and then you'll have to pass the suit off to me!"

"There's something wrong with you."

" _Shut up_ , Tim. And send me the pictures you took."

"Nice job holding him by the way."

"I try."

Dick rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen, but couldn't help smiling.

He hadn't cried after getting the phone call. Nothing was broken. No blood had been shed. _Valentine's Day cards._

( _Today was a pretty good day.)_


	18. The Art Contest

**Title:** The Art Contest

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Not even _Chopped._ Or _Dancing with the Stars._

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like enter an art competition.

Damian cocked an eyebrow when Grayson poked his head into the room. There was a strange expression on his oldest brother's face – the one he tended to make when he was trying – and failing – to suppress his excitement.

Damian sighed, bracing himself. "Yes, Grayson?"

Grayson sidled into the room affecting a poor facsimile of nonchalance. "Hey, Dami. How's it going?"

( _How is he so good at his job when he can't even act casual at home?)_

Damian wasn't sure if even his _father_ knew the answer to that question.

"Fine," Damian replied curtly. "Did you need something?"

Grayson gave up on trying to hide his smile with a flourish, grinning and spreading his arms out wide. "Guess what I just found out on the school's twitter page?"

Damian scowled. "How many social media accounts does the school even have?"

"Like, 5. But that's not the point. The point is…" he paused, presumably to build drama. All Damian felt was annoyance and vague dread. "There's an art contest!"

Damian turned around in his chair swiftly, forcing a shrug. "Oh. That."

"That?" Grayson whined, sounding heartbroken at Damian's lack of enthusiasm.

Damian didn't care.

He cared even less about the contest.

Well…

That wasn't completely true.

He would never admit it to anyone – least of all Grayson – but he wasalmost – _almost –_ excited for the contest. Not that he planned on entering, but he had an appreciation for the arts, and though he doubted any of his classmates were overly talented, it sounded like an event that Damian would enjoy.

It was a strange state to be in: anticipating something that the _school_ was offering.

Which was why he would never admit it.

( _Grayson would never let me hear the end of it.)_

"Yes, that."

"But, but, Dami! You're an artist! You're great at drawing! You could totally win and it would be fun and then we could all go and we could celebrate like a family and enjoy this crucial moment in your childhood!"

Damian shot his brother a look. He couldn't be serious.

Except he was.

Of course.

Grayson was staring at him with that painfully pitiful expression.

( _Why does this mean so much to him?)_

"It's hardly crucial," Damian offered dismissively.

"But it is! Please, Damian? Don't you want to show off your work?"

"I'm not Drake; I don't feel the need to prove myself better than my peers by crushing them in an ultimately meaningless competition."

Grayson gaped slightly before shrugging. "Tim's actually gotten better about that! Now, he just shows them up by being overly competent in normal life."

"A much better aspiration," Damian replied sarcastically.

"Okay, forget about Tim-"

"Gladly."

"Focus on the contest. You really like art, right? I mean, you're drawing right now!"

Damian suppressed a flinch and resisted the urge to shut his sketchbook. That would just look guilty. And there was nothing to be guilty about.

"So?"

That sounded too defensive. And now Grayson was eyeing him like he had the upper hand.

Damian cursed under his breath and avoided eye contact. It was the coward's way out, but he didn't have much of a choice at this point. His pride was going to end up destroyed one way or another.

"Soooo, maybe entering the contest… wouldn't be so bad?"

Damian raised his chin and set his jaw. "Of course, it would be."

He could practically feel the smugness flowing off of Grayson; he obviously didn't believe him.

"You wanna' enter the contest, Dami?"

He was grinning like he already knew the answer.

But he didn't!

Damian didn't want to _enter_ the contest at all. He simply appreciated the fact that one was being held at all.

"No," Damian answered, crossing his arms and lowering his eyebrows.

Grayson's smile only got bigger as his eyes swept past Damian and over the desk. "I was going to offer to print out the registration form, but it looks like you already have one."

Damian spun around in his chair and picked up his sketchbook, slamming it down on top of the paper. "Andrews was handing them out to everyone!"

Grayson's grin softened into a small smile and he crouched down in front of Damian. Damian avoided his gaze, but Grayson just ruffled his hair in response.

"You know," Grayson said gently, "there's nothing wrong with wanting to enter."

"I don't," Damian refuted.

Inwardly, he acknowledged the fact that he sounded petulant. And that perhaps – _perhaps_ – he _might_ want to enter.

But the whole thing was completely stupid.

So, he had no intentions of telling Grayson his true thoughts on the matter.

Not that that seemed to stop the older man from discerning said thoughts.

Grayson sighed. "Damian, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's okay if you want to do this. Do you?"

Damian pursed his lips. "It doesn't matter. I refuse to participate."

"No one is going to make fun of you for wanting to do this."

Damian shot him an incredulous glare. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious," Grayson affirmed, a firm expression on his face. "If this is something you want to do, the _whole_ family will support you."

Damian scowled, turning back around with a scoff. "It's childish."

"You're a child," he pointed out wryly.

Damian sent another glare his way. "I'm a warrior!"

"You are. But, you're also a kid. So, it's okay to want to do kid stuff sometimes. It's not like entering the contest will keep you from going on patrol. Just… think about it, Dami? If this is something you want to do, you should do it. Everyone would be really proud of you – pretty sure Bruce would show up at the presentation," he added, tilting his head with a small, hopeful smile.

Damian didn't reply.

But he liked the idea.

He was an excellent fighter – an excellent Robin. But, he wouldn't be opposed to making his father – his family – proud with his other skills. Because he was good at more than fighting, and it might be nice to show them.

Damian sniffed and forced a shrug. "I'll think about it, Grayson."

Grayson grinned a little. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Damian hummed and turned to his desk as Grayson walked out of his room. He slid his sketchbook off the registration forms and frowned slightly, tapping the desktop.

( _Might as well.)_

He grabbed a pen.

Jason raised his eyebrow when Dick skipped into the kitchen grinning, Damian following behind him looking exasperated.

"Dick, you got something weird on you face," Jason said pointing at his smile.

Dick shot him an annoyed look, but Steph high-fived him, and Jason liked Steph better, so Dick's inability to take a joke really didn't matter.

"Seriously," Steph said, "the smile isn't weird, but you were _skipping_. I feel like something kinda bad, but mostly great is about to happen."

"Only great," Dick refuted, his grin returning.

Jason rolled his eyes. If Dick was this excited about it, it was bound to be boring or corny or involve family-bonding – or all three.

He suppressed a shudder.

"What is it?" Steph asked.

Dick turned to Damian. "You want to tell them?"

"No," Damian returned shortly.

Jason grinned. "Wait – this is about Damian? Why didn't you say so? What happened?"

Dick looked disappointed. "Seriously, Jason?"

"What? I'm showing an interest in my little brother and you're upset about it?"

"He didn't get in trouble," Dick stressed.

"Oh. Well, now I don't care."

"See! This is what I'm talking about!"

Steph snorted. "Come on, Jay, this could be great. What happened?"

And… Dick's smile was back. It was kind of creepy. Didn't he know that no one in their family smiled?

"Damian entered the art contest at his school!"

Jason blinked, sending Damian an appraising glance. The kid's shoulders were hunched, face scrunched up – clearly avoiding eye contact. He was embarrassed. Which meant he actually cared about this.

( _Huh. Look at that.)_

"That's great, Dami!" Steph said, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh! What did you draw? Can we see?"

"I haven't entered yet," Damian grumbled, shooting a look at Dick and shifting his stance. "I _registered._ I'm not sure what piece I'm entering."

"Yeah," Dick gushed, "he's going to do some preliminary sketches and then I'm going to screen them – you know, have to make sure they're appropriate for school-"

Jason snorted, ignoring Dick's glare.

"But, it's going to be great, whatever it is! I already told Bruce and Alfred and it's in the calendar and-"

"Wait," Steph interjected, leaning forward. "You're screening the drawings?"

"…Yes?"

Dick hesitance was completely founded. Steph sounded way too excited.

"That's great! We can all help!"

"Help how?"

"What are you talking about, Brown?"

"Shh!" Jason demanded, turning to Steph. "This sounds interesting. Explain."

Steph winked. "It'll be like a panel. Dami can do his sketches and then we'll all sit like a group of judges you know – like _Chopped_. But for art. And with only one contestant. So, not really like _Chopped_. Anyway, we'll sit and we'll give the number score from one through ten with our commentary. Like _Dancing with the Stars._ But-"

"You watch too much reality TV," Jason interrupted. "But I'm in."

"Wait, guys-"

"You don't get a say, Dick; this isn't about you!"

"Exactly! It's about Damian. Dami, what do you think?"

Damian looked them over, his arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked. "I think you're all going to do something stupid anyway, so it might as well be this; it's not like your opinion actually matters."

That could be construed as an insult, but really, it just meant that they were going forward with this plan.

"This is why you're at the top my list," Jason said, turning to Steph with a grin.

"I know. Now, let's get started! I'll grab the others. Meet in the living room, ten minutes. You ready, Dami?"

Damian sneered, unimpressed. "I'm always ready, Brown."

"You're literally the only person I know who can say that and not sound cliché because you actually _mean it,_ " she stated, smiling as she left the room.

Dick sighed, shoulders slumping forward.

"Cheer up, Dickiebird," Jason said, walking forward and clapping him on the back. "You keep saying you want us more involved in Babybat's life – we're showing interest!"

"You just like chaos," he pointed out, lips twisted dryly.

"That's fair," Jason said before turning to Damian and ruffling his hair.

Damian swiped at him and offered a glare. "You're all ridiculous."

Jason shrugged with a grin.

( _This is going to be fun.)_

Jason nodded at the table, impressed. "I didn't even know we had handheld white boards."

"Me neither," Cass murmured.

"We don't," Tim drawled, stepping into the room with an annoyed look at Steph, who was pushing him to a chair. " _I_ have handheld whiteboards. I'm lending them to you for- Steph hasn't told me what they're for."

"Ooo! Whiteboards. Because you're so special for having miniature whiteboards," Jason snarked.

"Your jealousy over my collection of office supplies has been noted and ignored."

"Ha ha. Shut up, Tim."

Steph snorted. "As much fun as this is – did you bring the dry erase markers, Tim?"

"Yes. Will someone tell me what's going on here?"

Damian snorted. "They're idiots."

"Oh, well, stating the obvious is always helpful. Someone else?"

"We're-"

"Not you, Dick. You look miserable."

Jason rolled his eyes. "The brat's entering an art contest at school, so we're judging his art to make sure it's 'school-appropriate'."

Tim stared at him blankly. "Damian is entering an art contest?"

"Yep!" Steph chirped.

"Why?"

Jason saw Damian and Dick both stiffen behind Tim's back. Dick looked worried. Damian looked ready to fight, or maybe cry; Jason wasn't sure.

"What do you mean 'why'?" Steph demanded. "It's great."

Tim shrugged carelessly. "It's a waste of time; we all know he's going to win anyway. Why bother?"

Dick was grinning and nudging Damian smugly, and the look on Damian's face made Jason wish he'd had his phone out.

"It's about the accolades," Steph explained.

Jason snorted, rolling his eyes as he dropped into his chair. "Why are you only nice on accident? Seriously, Tim, is there like, a thing in your brain that keeps you from being nice on purpose?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but, mostly, I can't believe you _you're_ talking to me about being nice."

"I'm an angel!" Jason said, grinning.

Jason received remarkably unimpressed looks from everyone in the room. Which. Wow. Kind of harsh.

"Let's not support any more of Jason's delusions," Steph said, pushing Tim down into the chair next to Jason and taking the seat on his other side. She motioned to Cass and Dick and slapped her hands on the table. "Pass out the markers, Tim! Let the judging begin!"

"Okay," Dick began, "we rate the picture one through ten based on you know… art stuff."

Damian looked disappointed in Dick's very existence. Jason thought it was kind of hilarious.

"'Art stuff'," he repeated.

Tim shot him a fake snobbish look that was perfectly, disturbingly natural. "Obviously. Art stuff. It's culture, Jason. Not that you'd know what that is."

Jason sniggered. "Too right. Too right, Tim. Seeing as I'm obviously lacking… culture, maybe we should get someone who knows about it to teach me. Dick? Are you offering classes on art stuff that I can take? I don't want to look ignorant, you know?"

Dick looked completely done.

That was Jason's favorite expression of Dick's.

"Can we separate the two of them?" Dick asked, turning to Steph.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "Tim, move it. Dick, you can sit in between them."

Dick's face fell. "Why do you hate me?"

"Are you done?" Damian demanded, holding his sketchbook and scowling at them.

"Seating is crucial, Dami. Be patient."

"So, today's just the day where we give out hypocritical advice? How did I miss the memo?" Tim asked, standing up. "I type the memos."

"Do as I say, not as I do," Steph quoted.

"That explains so much," Damian muttered.

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to Tim. "I've changed my mind. Tim's sass has earned him a seat at the end of the table. Dick, you can sit between me and Jason."

Tim rolled his eyes as he walked to his new seat, prodding Dick to stand up. "So, sitting next to Cass is a punishment now?"

Steph frowned. "I didn't think this through."

"You don't think anything through, Brown."

"Shush, Dami," she paused, "Oh, whatever. Let's just get started, yeah? I'm excited."

"Finally," Damian grumbled standing in front of the table and flipping through his sketchbook. He cleared his throat and turned the sketchbook around once he found his page. "I'm considering making a larger version of this one. Perhaps painting it with dark, saturated colors."

Steph hummed. "All right, judges. Judge Todd, you start."

Jason held up his whiteboard, grinning. He loved giving things scores. "That's a 7 for me, Judge Brown. I like subject, and it's drawn really well, but I'm not too sure about the composition. I feel like it's unbalanced, and maybe a little to jarring for the competition it would be entered in."

Steph was stifling laughter and trying to give a formal nod. She barely managed it, but she really didn't compare to Damian, who was actually taking his advice seriously. Jason was a little surprised, before he remembered that this was Damian and he _liked_ drawing, and he took everything he liked seriously.

"Makes sense; thank you, Judge Todd. Judge Grayson?"

The "10" that Dick held up was entirely predictable. "That's amazing, Little D!"

Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Grayson."

"Yes, thank you, Judge Grayson, but we're looking for constructive criticism."

"It was constructive," Dick said, pouting as he lowered his whiteboard slowly.

"As for me," Steph said, holding up her board. "An '8'. It's a nice piece, but, like, maybe there should be more scenery or something? That's all. Judge Cain?"

Cass held up a "9". "It's good. But he looks lonely."

"Good point, good point," Steph said, nodding.

"I thought you said the criticism had to be constructive!" Dick protested.

"That was constructive!" Steph responded. "Great job, Judge Cain. Judge Drake?"

Tim casually held up a '0'.

Jason sniggered under his breath.

Damian glared. "What exactly is so bad about this sketch, Drake?"

"See, I thought about 'art stuff'-"

Jason laughed. Dick glared. Jason laughed harder.

"And then I realized that we're screening for appropriateness. A picture of Goliath isn't appropriate for school. I mean, unless you were planning on surprising everyone and presenting your piece to the actual judges by saying 'oh, hey, not to be suspicious or ruin my secret identity or anything, but I'm Robin and this is my flying pet. When do I get my trophy?' then it's probably a bad idea to present this at school. So, it's a '0' as for me, Judge Brown."

Jason cackled.

Damian narrowed his eyes the way he always did when he hated having to concede a point to Tim.

"Well," Dick started, "it could be a fantasy piece."

"Really?" Tim drawled. "Really? Because… that looks like a photograph. And, no offense, Damian-"

"That's the biggest lie you've ever told," Jason interrupted.

"But I've never seen you draw from anything other than reference, so I've come to the conclusion that, in spite of your natural creativity, you have the imagination of a lionfish-"

"'Lionfish'," Steph mouthed, peering around Dick to gape at him.

Jason shrugged through his laughter.

"Unless it's about violence," Tim continued blandly. "Then you're more imaginative than, well, Steph coming up with ways to torment you."

"I resent that," Steph argued.

Damian's expression hadn't changed, so he obviously agreed and was just refusing to admit it.

"Is this drawing sufficient or not?" Damian asked, teeth gritted.

"Judge Grayson, I'll let you have the final say," Steph offered with a grin.

Dick looked torn. He obviously thought Tim had made a good point, but, being Dick, he was completely in love with whatever Damian did.

"That's a no," Cass said, shrugging apologetically at Damian.

Damian rolled his eyes and nodded, flipping through his sketchbook again. "This one, then. I'd draw it bigger, but leave it as a sketch."

Jason held up a '6'. "I mean, it's good, but you can do better. I like the composition but it's just… eh. Not really eye-catching."

Dich held up another perfect score. "It's great, Dami!"

Damian rolled his eyes.

"Can we skip Dick from now on?"

"Wait your turn Judge Drake. I think... you get a '4' because it's super boring."

"How constructive," Damian said with a glower.

She winked. "I try. Judge Cain?"

"'8'. It's pretty, but there's no movement."

Damian nodded gravely.

"Judge Drake? Your thoughts?"

Another zero. The predictability did nothing to make it less funny.

"It's a bird," Tim said matter-of-factly. "It's not even a bird. It's a Robin. It's like you don't know how to do anything other than leave clues to your identity. And, yeah, it's super boring. But mostly, it's a Robin. Is there anything in your sketchbook that doesn't indicate what you do when you're staying up past your bedtime?"

Damian looked like he wanted to jump across the table and tackle Tim. He refrained and chose to flip through his sketch pad again – though, more violently this time. Jason was actually impressed with his self-control.

He was also wondering how long it would last because Tim was only getting more savage the longer this went on.

( _Bedtime. Man. It's like Tim_ wants _to get attacked. This is great.)_

"Here!" Damian spat, holding the sketch out.

Jason could feel everyone's moods drop. Except maybe for Damian's, which was defiant. And Tim's, which was both shocked and satisfied.

"Uh… Judge Todd?" Steph prompted weakly.

Jason held up a '3' and avoided looking at Damian. "Yeah. It's uh, really detailed. Looks great. But this is depressing and I hate it."

Damian scowled. "That's a bit like hating yourself, isn't it Todd?"

"Wow. Wow," Tim breathed.

He sounded way too happy.

Though, objectively, he could admit that Damian's comment had been pretty awesome. Cold, but awesome.

Jason turned to Dick. "Judge Grayson?"

Dick smiled weakly. "'10'?"

"Okay, we need to get some duct tape or something," Jason grumbled. "You are literally the most biased person I have ever met."

"But… it's… so… good," Dick defended.

He kind of looked like he wanted to cry, so Jason decided he might as well let it go. No one liked to see Dick cry; it was embarrassing.

"Uh… right," Steph said. "Uh, well, I've got to go '3' too. Because, wow: the level of detail. But also, wow: this is horrible and it makes me sad so can we not? Next?"

"'4'. It's sad."

"None of you appreciate fine art," Damian grumbled, sparing a moment to give them all a disappointed look before straightening his posture, hardening his expression, and turning to Tim. "Well?"

"Another zero, for obvious reasons."

"And what reasons would those be, Drake? Your over sensitivity or your lack of appreciation for the fact that art is made to evoke emotion?"

"I feel like he just sub-tweeted all of us. But in real life," Steph whispered.

"Definitely," Jason agreed.

"It's a new experience for me," Steph admitted.

"Me too."

"I think," Tim began, "it probably has more to do with the fact that you drew the graveyard and you might actually get expelled from school. Just on the grounds of accumulated emotional torture. Honestly, I just don't feel like watching your teacher have a mental breakdown because even your _art_ is ominous. I get you've got this obsession with death you can't get over, but maybe don't ruin your classmates?"

Dick was making a strangled pained noise that meant he agreed and couldn't bring himself to say so because the comment was negative about any aspect of Damian's existence.

Or maybe he was just trying not to cry.

That honestly seemed pretty likely.

"You know what, Drake? Fine."

"You mean you'll stop terrorizing your classmates and teacher?"

Damian glared and then stomped out of the room without another word.

Dick frowned. "Where's he going? Look! He ran out! Tim!"

Tim shrugged. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true. And, really, you remember what happened the last time he wanted to do something school related?"

"This is nothing like the field trip!" Dick protested loudly.

Jason nodded. "This is _nothing_ like the field trip. Nothing."

"Ah, right. Was jail fun for you? Did Damian have a good time?"

"Okay, one, attitude, Tim. Two, it was a holding cell, not jail. And they're lucky no one else was in there with us because Damian probably would have torn them apart."

Tim response was cut off when Damian walked back into the room holding a rolled-up poster board.

"Since none of my other options were deemed appropriate," he stated, glaring at Tim, "I thought this one might be better."

His expression went smug as he unrolled the sheet.

Jason broke into gales of laughter. Cass joined him shortly after – though slightly quieter.

"Wow. Just. Wow," Steph breathed.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do at this point," Dick muttered, head falling into his hands.

"Well," Tim started slowly, blinking and leaning forward. "I didn't know you enjoyed drawing me that much, Damian. I don't know whether to be creeped out or flattered."

Dick groaned.

"Here we go," Steph whispered excitedly.

Jason got out his phone and started recording. He was honestly a little disappointed that Tim hadn't done this from the beginning, but it was fine.

The good part was just getting started.

Damian sneered. "This is a compilation I put together – sketches of you _failing,_ Drake."

"Oh, well then, I'm definitely flattered," Tim said, pasting on a plastic smile.

"Only you would be flattered by evidence of your persistent failures. I suppose it's because failing is the only way for you to get attention," Damian suggested loftily.

"Actually, it's because this is evidence that you care enough about me that you'll even capture my _perceived_ failures in your art."

"Oh, snap," Jason murmured, leaning back in his chair.

"Why…?" Dick moaned, ignoring Steph who kept swatting his shoulder.

Cass kept laughing.

Damian spluttered. "Hardly! This," he declared, jabbing his finger at a sketch of Tim asleep, drooling on his desk, "is when you hadn't slept in days working on the Black Mask case and ended up falling asleep at your desk and missing patrol. And this," he pointed to a suited-up Tim in mid-fall wearing a calm expression, "is the day you gave Grayson your extra grappling hook and dropped yours right before you tripped off of a 12-story roof top. You were perfectly calm – accepting of your seemingly inevitable death – until I employed my considerable skill and excellent timing to save you from your own clumsiness. Also the result of a lack of sleep, might I add."

"This just keeps getting better," Jason said, grinning widely.

Dick looked up strangely. "This is actually really stressful; no one likes being reminded of these things!"

Cass and Steph spoke simultaneously. "Tim does."

Tim _did_ look like he was enjoying this. Which could only mean he had a comeback in the works.

( _I love this day.)_

"And that," Damian continued, getting more and more heated with each passing second, "is the day you were ill after catching a cold due to your immense stupidity, and had to be dragged out of your car by Todd because you were trying to go to work. Dressed in your pajamas." Damian puffed out his chest, smirking. "What do you think of _that_ , Drake?"

Jason turned his phone to Tim, leaning forward in anticipation. Dick was trying his hardest to ignore the situation, but Steph and Cass were just as invested as Jason was, so, really?

Who needed Dick?

Not them.

"I think it's sweet, Damian."

Damian looked nauseated.

It was lovely.

Tim just smiled vindictively and continued. "It's really, really good, Damian. And you obviously put a lot of thought and effort into this. I mean… you remembered every single incident perfectly. The fact that you care this much… it means a lot to me."

Damian was a strange mix of purple and pale; he looked like he was about to explode.

It was glorious.

Tim smirked and wrote on his whiteboard. He held it up. "Perfect '10'. Nice job, Damian."

Jason was perfectly justified in throwing back his head and full on cackling.

( _That was amazing.)_

Damian bared his teeth furiously and jerkily rolled up his poster. "I don't need help from any of you! I'll do this on my own!"

He stomped out of the room, absolutely steaming. Dick gaped after him before shooting them all judgmental glares and running after Damian.

"Dami, wait!

Tim smirked slightly. "Notice how he didn't rip it up? It's like he actually _does_ care."

"I think he just didn't want to ruin his work."

"Shh, Steph. Let him have this. He needs this," Jason said with a grin, turning off his phone and standing up. "This was kind of a disaster, but, also, not as bad as I thought it was going to be."

Cass huffed.

They turned to her immediately.

If Cass was huffing, that meant she was frustrated. No one liked when Cass was frustrated.

No one.

Cass was looking at Tim though, which meant Jason was in the clear, so it was all good. Maybe not for Tim, but definitely for Jason, and that's really all that mattered.

"You should be nicer," she instructed, staring at Tim.

He blinked. "I – that wasn't even as bad as usual."

Cass frowned slightly and nodded, conceding the point. "This means a lot to Dami. It's important."

There was a set to Tim's jaw that more guilty than stubborn. "Fine," he muttered, standing up and walking out of the room.

"I haven't seen the moody-teenager-stomp-off from him in a while," Jason muttered wryly.

Cass just shrugged. "Dami's sensitive. Tim forgets sometimes."

"Let's just hope he doesn't start a fight over this; you know how he gets," Steph commented.

Jason sighed.

Little brothers were so complicated.

( _I'm not touching_ any _of this.)_

Tim made his way to Damian's room with a sigh.

This was why he didn't like talking to Cass sometimes. It was easy to ignore Dick; he made a big deal out of everything relating to Damian. When Cass did it, he actually felt bad.

He hadn't been trying to upset Damian – not any more than usual, at least. They communicated through snark and insults, and Damian always gave as good as he got, so Tim never worried about hurting his feelings. And, since they had gotten over the whole animosity-hatred-attempted-murder segment of their relationship, Tim hadn't bothered with trying to _hurt_ Damian's feelings either.

( _And yet…)_

"Tim."

Tim winced. "Save it, Dick. I'm going to apologize now."

Dick gaped briefly before slumping in relief. "Good. That's good. Thanks."

Tim waved it off. "He's not going to try to kill me as soon as I step into his room, is he?"

Dick gave a crooked smile. "50-50."

"I've worked with worse odds."

He continued past Dick, but paused when he reached Damian's door. Probably better to knock.

He did.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"Go away, Drake!"

Tim sighed and pushed the door open, dodging the book thrown at his head only because he'd been expecting it.

Damian glared at him before sitting down in his chair and turning his back.

Well, it could've been worse, so Tim was going to count that as a win.

Tim walked over to the bed and dropped down, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Damian, I didn't know this meant that much to you."

"It doesn't," he spat, shoulders hunched.

( _Right.)_

Tim didn't know why he'd thought apologizing like a normal person would be a good idea. This was Damian he was dealing with. This was _him_ dealing with Damian. Acknowledging any kind of weakness between them – especially hurt feelings – was just not done.

So, different tactic.

"You know whatever you submit is going to win, right?"

Damian turned slightly for the sole purpose of shooting him a skeptical glare.

Progress.

Tim made his shrug casual. "I mean, you could probably enter a drawing of Jason's face and still win- that's how good you are. Or how bad your classmates are, comparatively."

Damian's lips twitched and his posture opened up, as Tim had expected. Insulting Jason and Damian's peers were two of the few ways that Tim and Damian could bond.

"Obviously," Damian shot back, leaning back in his chair and spinning to face Tim.

"That being said, you shouldn't turn in whatever just because you _can_. It should be something really good so that everyone else realizes how futile entering this whole contest was when they had to compete against you."

Damian smirked. "And Grayson was telling me you'd gotten over your need to crush other people in pointless competition."

"I have." ( _Mostly.)_ "Which is why I'm passing it on to you. And is it really a good day in school if you don't make someone cry because of your obvious superiority?" Tim drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

Damian rolled his eyes before sighing. "Well, what do you suggest then, Drake, seeing as you're so well-versed on the subject?"

Tim smirked and stood up. Damian was shooting sarcastic comments at him with ease – no anger present. His job here was done.

"I don't know; draw something that actually means something to you. You were the one going on about the emotional impact of art. Use it. Just… leave anything Bat-related out of it."

"Obviously. _I'm_ not the idiot of the family."

"No, that would be Jason."

Damian snorted. "True. Goodbye, Drake."

Tim gave a sarcastic bow at the dismissal, already halfway out of the door. "Have fun, Demon."

Dick grinned back at his family as they walked through all of the students' drawings.

This was just so exciting!

Bruce and Alfred and him and Jason and Cass and Steph and –

"Are you two seriously making fun of the other kids' work?" Dick complained, staring at his youngest brothers in dismay.

Tim and Damian shared a look and shrugged in unison.

"Critiquing," Tim corrected.

"If they didn't want feedback, they shouldn't have entered the contest in the first place," Damian offered unsympathetically.

Jason and Steph snickered.

(So _unhelpful.)_

"Bruce!" Dick implored.

Bruce sighed. "Boys."

"Art is completely subjective. We can't help it if we don't like what they've submitted," Tim said, shrugging.

"I'm not entirely sure any of this can be classified as art."

Jason was full on cackling at this point, and Dick was forced to wave awkwardly at the parents and students who were staring at their group.

"Perhaps we should go and see Master Damian's piece instead," Alfred suggested calmly.

Dick couldn't help his grin.

In the end, Damian had gone to Alfred to get approval from his drawing; and no matter how much Dick pestered them, neither Alfred nor Damian would tell him what Damian had entered. He'd been waiting to see it for two weeks!

He was _so_ excited!

"Yes!" Dick exclaimed. "Lead the way to the 1st place winner, Little D!"

Damian rolled his eyes and grumbled an "I'm so glad they did the judging before the showcase, so you couldn't be there", but walked forward to take the lead in their group. "It's right past here," he said, leading them through the maze of artwork towards a corner.

They all stopped as soon as they saw it.

Because it was immediately recognizable as Damian's. Not just because it was better than everyone else's – and it really, really was, for all it was a black and white sketch – but because it was them.

Them. The whole family. All of them. It was a full-sized family portrait. Not one they'd ever actually stood for, of course, but one Damian had put together.

"I- how- wha…?" Dick couldn't get any words out as he looked between Damian and the drawing.

He shrugged. "I have plenty of references for you all. I just used them."

Dick was not going to cry right now. He was not!

"It's perfect, Damian," Bruce said, resting a hand on Damian's shoulder.

Damian pretended he wasn't blushing and nodded. "Thank you, Father."

"Indeed it is, Master Damian."

"Oh my gosh! It's like- better than perfect! Oh my gosh!" Steph looked absolutely ecstatic, briefly hugging Damian before rushing up to the drawing to take pictures of it.

Cass hugged him too – longer than Steph – before pulling away and ruffling his hair. "It feels like us."

"Definitely," Jason affirmed, slinging an arm around Damian's shoulders. "Nice work, brat."

Damian scoffed, but didn't pull away – and Dick was officially going to die because this was amazing.

It was amazing.

"I'm surprised you didn't draw me half out of the frame."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose; Alfred sighed; Cass shook her head; Jason laughed loudly, drawing more stares; Dick wondered if he would ever get to enjoy a moment without having to hear a vaguely incendiary comment from one of his brothers.

( _Tim, why do you hate me?)_

Steph groaned. "Why are you like this?"

Damian just smirked. "I considered it, but that would have thrown off the overall composition."

"Naturally," Tim said, the corner of his lips twitching. "Still, given the _meaning_ behind this piece-"

"Shut up and be glad I didn't draw you bleeding and broken, Drake," Damian sneered. The blush on his face kind of ruined it.

"I'm sure you only refrained because that would have cost you 1st place," Tim shot back. "Planning on bringing your trophy to school tomorrow to rub your classmates' inadequacies in their faces?"

"I'm not you, Drake. Besides, my very presence is enough to accomplish that purpose."

Dick sighed and exchanged looks with Bruce and Alfred, but couldn't help smiling again.

"This is going on the refrigerator."


	19. Family Day 1

**Title:** The Bad Idea

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Not even _Lilo and Stitch._

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.

 **Note:** This is the last installment of Grade School. It'll be told in five parts.

I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Bruce could feel his stress levels spike when Dick burst into his office, grinning excessively.

( _Oh, no.)_

"What?" Bruce demanded, already exasperated.

He would have just preempted whatever Dick was planning to say with a "no", but he'd come to realize that that method didn't actually work.

With any of his children, come to think of it.

Dick sidled up to his desk, plopping down in the chair. "So."

Bruce braced himself.

"Did you get my email?"

There had been 12 exclamation marks in the subject bar. Bruce had deleted it immediately.

"No," he lied.

Dick looked skeptical, but didn't comment. "Well then, that just means this will be an all new conversation for you! Something wonderful is happening, Bruce."

Bruce's expression was blank. "What?"

Dick's mega-watt grin was back. "Family Day."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "…'Family Day'?"

"Family Day," Dick affirmed. "Next week. At Damian's school."

"No," Bruce said firmly.

At least he had waited to hear him out before saying "no". Bruce felt like he was really growing as a father.

"Bruce! It'll be great! We can support Damian and there'll be activities and food and it'll be really fun. Damian needs this! It's a crucial childhood experience!"

Dick was flat out pleading with him; he was almost pouting. It was upsetting to witness.

But not enough to make Bruce give in.

"Damian would hate that."

"Damian doesn't realize how much he wants this, Bruce; this'll be good for him! For all of us. It'll help us bond as a family!"

Bruce suppressed a groan. Dick's unrelenting obsession with "family bonding" was going to end in someone's death.

Probably an innocent bystander, knowing his children.

"No one is going to go for this," Bruce stated.

"But, if _you_ encourage them, they definitely will!"

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at his eldest. "You've met your brothers, haven't you?"

Dick wave his hand dismissively and leaned forward, expression painfully earnest. "Bruce. Bruce. _Bruce_. _Please."_

Bruce grimaced. "Dick. I can't begin to explain to you how bad an idea this is. It would end in disaster. Which is why I'm saying no."

Dick was looking at him like Bruce had just betrayed him, but Bruce had become mildly successful at riding out his eldest's more histrionic tendencies, so he just waited for it to pass.

"How could you not want to do this for Damian?"

Oh. He was guilt tripping now.

( _Wonderful.)_

Bruce sighed. "Dick, _no._ "

Dick stood with a determined frown. "Fine, but just because you don't want to support this crucial stage in Damian's development-"

"It's Family Day. At his school."

"Doesn't mean that the others won't."

Bruce stared at Dick dubiously, but didn't bother saying anything. If Dick wanted to try and convince his siblings to go to Family Day, he was welcome to.

It wouldn't work, so Bruce wasn't worried.

"Good luck," he offered dryly.

"Shame on you," Dick replied, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

Bruce just snorted and shook his head.

He really needed Alfred to convince Dick to let go of this whole family bonding thing.

* * *

Cass looked up at the knock on her door, smiling when Dick popped his head into the room.

Her smile dropped almost immediately, an assessing frown taking over her face.

Dick was up to something.

"Hey, ladies. Mind if I join you?"

Steph grinned. "Only if you don't mind having your nails painted. It's the admissions price."

Dick skipped into the room, grinning. "I'll take blue, please."

"That's _so_ Nightwing, you narcissist," Steph teased, picking up a brilliant blue shade and shaking the bottle.

Dick was amused as he sat down, but he was mostly… anticipatory. Cass stared at him carefully, wondering how long it was going to take him to break and tell them what he was visiting them for.

Not long, probably.

Less than a minute.

Cass was right, of course. Steph had barely finished his thumbnail before he spoke up.

"So, what would you girls think of going to a crazy fun event next Friday?"

"Oh, sound exciting, but I'm busy Friday. What event?" Steph asked.

"Hmm… what do you think, Cass?"

Cass furrowed her brow. "What event?" Cass repeated.

He hesitated. His posture was a little unsure, and he was clearly hedging. "You know, it'll kind of be like a carnival. There's games and food and fun! It'll be great. What do you think, Cass?"

He was all but begging her, posture imploring – with a pout to match.

It was kind of funny, but mostly confusing. Because he obviously wanted this badly, but he was nervous that she wouldn't agree if she actually knew what the event was.

"Wait – there's a carnival in Gotham and I don't know about it? How did I not know about this? It's next Friday? Where? Man, I can't believe I can't go!" Steph cried, looking horrified by this turn of events.

"I don't think it's a carnival," Cass refuted, turning back to Dick.

He laughed awkwardly. "Well, not, you know, a literal carnival. Just… _like_ a carnival."

Cass stared at him.

He avoided looking at her.

Steph looked between the two of them. " _Okay_ … If it's not actually a carnival, what is it? And why does Dick look terrified to actually tell us? Are you actually trying to lead her to her death or something?"

"No, of course not! I just…"

"Want her to agree to go before she knows what it is so that she can't refuse because if she knows, she won't want to go?" Steph finished.

Dick's shoulders hunched slightly. "Maybe do red for the other hand?" he proposed weakly.

Steph snorted. "Red Hood Red or Red Robin Red?"

Dick was genuinely torn "Red Robin really pops, but Red Hood is more saturated, so I'm not really sure… Hmm… You know what? Let's stick with blue."

Steph rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless. So, the not-carnival?"

More awkward laughter – he was curling in on himself just a little, away from the two of them. "Oh, well, you know."

"Dick. Tell us," Cass prompted.

He sighed heavily, but nodded. "Okay. Just – hear me out? Seriously consider this, okay?"

"I will," Cass agreed.

"Now, tell us! The suspense is killing me. And don't fidget; I'll mess up your nails."

"Right, sorry. Well, umm… Next Friday is Family Day. At Dami's school."

Cass blinked.

Well. That certainly explained his hesitance.

Steph was laughing like a madwoman, but that wasn't particularly unusual. Cass almost wanted to laugh with her, except the very idea of the entire family going to Damian's school – and being surrounded by other people – just sounded…

Bad.

"Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh! Why am I busy Friday?" Steph moaned, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh. I wish I could be there to see all of you insane people around a bunch of normal families doing random activities. It sounds wonderful. Someone's probably going to die."

Cass looked at Dick incredulously. Now that he wasn't hiding the situation from her, he was desperately hopeful.

"Is everyone going?" she asked.

"Ah… I haven't talked to all of them yet. I talked to Bruce, but he's just being a spoilsport, you know? So, what do you say? Please, Cass? Damian's counting on you."

He said it like he believed it.

Scratch that.

He actually believed it.

Cass wanted to say yes. She did. But, really, this could only end badly. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said quietly, shrugging. "Sorry, Dick."

He looked heartbroken. "Oh. That's- that's okay. I understand."

She felt so guilty! But she couldn't bring herself to say yes. Only bad things would come of it.

"I'd go with you if I could, Dick," Steph offered, putting the cap back on the nail polish and smiling slightly.

"I know, Steph. Thanks. For the nails, too."

Dick got up and walked out of the room, shoulders slumped, head bowed, walk heavy.

Cass grimaced.

"I feel like we just killed his puppy. And made him watch."

Cass nodded. "It's for the best."

"Killing puppies is never for the best," Steph countered.

She had a point.

"Yellow or pink?"

"Both," Cass decided, turning to her best friend and holding her hands out.

"Excellent choice."

Cass nodded, looking back over her shoulder at the door.

( _I hope the others agree to go with him.)_

* * *

Dick was looking at him. Dick was opening his mouth to speak. Dick was about to say something that Jason really didn't want to hear, so Jason was going to do what needed to be done.

"No," Jason said.

Preemptive rejection.

Dick's face fell, but he should honestly be used to rejection by now.

Just look at his face.

( _Nice one, Jason.)_

"I haven't even said anything yet!" Dick exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with a huff.

Jason cleared his throat and shifted his weight slightly. "No, no, see? Problem is, I know that face. That's the face you use when you're about to ask me to do something that I don't want to do. In fact, that's the face you used when you tricked me into taking the brat on that field trip. I'm not doing it again, Dick. I'm not going to jail for you!"

Dick gaped at him. "You were a crime lord!"

"And I never got caught, did I?" Jason pointed out nonchalantly.

"You were in Arkham!"

"But I never when to _jail_ , Dick. I know what happens in jail; I'm too _pretty_ ," Jason gestured to his face, "to go to jail."

Dick stared at him in disbelief. "Who told you _that_?"

Jason put a hand on his chest, frowning in mock hurt, before his expression melted into a smirk. "Are you implying that you don't think someone would try to make me their-"

"Yes!" Dick shouted, looking vaguely queasy. "That is exactly what I'm implying. If it came down to it, you would probably be the one – nope. You know what? Not going there. I'm not doing it. If you want to have this conversation, take it to Tim; I'm not doing it. And I'm not going to let you distract me."

Jason snickered slightly. "Man, it almost worked too."

Dick looked completely unamused. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Because it's fun," Jason said matter-of-factly. "Now, I'm gonna' go. Bye."

"Ah!" Dick jumped in front of him, that ridiculous look back on his face, now with an added undercurrent of determination.

( _Great. Just great.)_

"One of us isn't getting out of here alive, and I've already died once, so…"

"Little Wing, please? Just hear me out!"

"Why can't you talk to someone who actually cares about what you have to say? Is it because no one like that exists? I understand that's hard for you, but you shouldn't punish other people for your own inadequacies."

"Seriously?" he asked, tone devoid of any emotion.

"Seriously," Jason affirmed, smirking.

Dick sighed heavily. "There's going to be a Family Day at Damian's school on Friday next week. Will you come?"

"Ha ha ha, no. Absolutely not."

"Jason!"

"I told you I'm not going to jail for you! I'm not going to jail for you, or for him, or for anyone in this family! You all can rot for all I care!"

"No one's going to jail! And if we did get arrested, Tim would bail us out!"

"No, he wouldn't," Jason refuted swiftly.

"No, he wouldn't," Dick said, nodding. "He would probably suggest remand and then steal all of our stuff and then take our cases and make sure he lost so we would all go to jail for life."

"Eh, not all of us. He'd help Cass and Steph."

"They're not going."

"See!" Jason said loudly. "Even they aren't going! Why would I go?"

"Steph would go, but she's busy!"

"But Cass isn't going because she has common sense, right?"

"Since when have you had common sense?"

"Since now! I'm allowed to grow as a person, Dick! You can't keep me stagnant!"

"I want you to grow! Growing would be supporting your youngest brother on a very important day in his life!"

"Damian doesn't even care about this!"

"How do you know?"

"Because it's Damian and he hates people and any activities that kids his age think are fun!"

"He only thinks he does! This'll be good for him!"

"Why are you such a mom?"

"Why don't you want to support Damian?"

Jason couldn't keep going. Dick was really serious about this, but he just couldn't stop himself from laughing. Dick was looking at him forlornly, but Jason figured that was his own fault.

"Look, Dick, I'm not going. Period. The brat wouldn't even want to do it, and it sounds horrible. Really. Genuinely traumatic. And I know trauma. Go bother someone else."

"You'll regret not going when Damian and me and Tim come back with great stories about how much fun Family Day was," he wheedled.

"Ha, yeah, no."

Dick huffed and turned on his heel, stomping out of the room. "I hope you get arrested!"

"I hope Tim says no!"

"Why do you hate me?"

Jason snorted and shook his head.

( _Tim's definitely going to say no.)_

* * *

"Timmy?"

Tim grunted and waved vaguely, not looking up from his computer.

Then the situation registered.

 _(Crap.)_

All he wanted at that moment was to go back in time by about 10 seconds so he could tell Dick to go away instead of grunting his consent for Dick to have a conversation with him.

Because _that tone._

He knew that tone. He hated that tone. That tone was the tone that Dick used whenever he needed something from Tim and was worried Tim would say no. And, usually, that something had to do with Damian.

Tim took a breath, saved his work, and turned from his computer.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

That sheepish grin was a lie. "Look, I need a favor."

Tim sighed. "What, Dick?"

"Okay, so, there's going to be this thing… Family Day. At Damian's school."

"Right," Tim said dryly, wondering if he could redirect the conversation. "And, which social media platform did you get this from? The Gotham Academy Mom's Pinterest, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook?"

"Facebook," Dick answered, looking confused. "But that's not the point. The point is, it's next Friday and I need you to go. Please?"

Redirection didn't work. Time for a new tactic.

"I'm busy Friday."

That was a lie.

"No, you're not!"

"I can be," Tim retorted with a shrug.

"Why don't you want to go? It'll be fun! Games and food and activities-"

"That sounds horrible."

"Tim! Please? This is important for Damian!"

Tim arched an eyebrow slowly. "Ah."

"'Ah'?" Dick repeated bemusedly.

"Mm. I see what this is about."

Dick looked wary and slightly exasperated.

Good. That was how Tim felt whenever Dick started a conversation using that stupid tone.

"What is this about, exactly?"

"This is about you. Living vicariously through Damian."

Dick sputtered. "Wha- No!"

"Yes. You don't have to deny it, Dick. There's nothing shameful in wanting to participate in things you never got a chance to experience as a child. You only went to a normal school _after_ Bruce took you in, and then it was just the two of you and Alfred. But, here's Damian, with a large family, going to normal school. You have the chance to live out your childhood fantasies of attending Family Day with plenty of siblings, and you're jumping at the chance. That's understandable."

Dick was staring at him like Tim was spouting nonsense.

He was. But, for nonsense, Tim thought it sounded pretty reasonable. He wondered if he'd ever thanked Bruce for teaching him the valuable skill of improvisation.

He had to make sure he did that.

"Tim," Dick began. "No."

"No?" Tim echoed, blinking in false confusion. "Well, I guess everyone has to be wrong about something at least once in their life. If this conversation's over, I really have to get back to-"

"It's not over!"

Tim rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. "Seriously, Dick? Why do you even want me to come? There's like, an 86% chance that something is going to happen to cause me and Damian to fight and civilians will probably get caught up and, honestly, I don't feel like having to pay anyone off next week."

"You don't have to fight!"

"You say that, but we do. It's how we communicate."

"Communicate what?"

"Our mutual dislike and reluctant respect. Obviously. Where have you been?"

Dick didn't look amused, but Tim wasn't trying to amuse him. Tim just wanted Dick to leave. Maybe out of frustration.

Because he was _not_ doing this.

Period.

The idea was giving him a stress headache.

"Please, Tim? Just… think about it for a minute. Really think-"

"I thought. And I've come to the conclusion that it's an even worse idea than I first believed, which I didn't know was possible, but here we are."

"Tim!" Dick pleaded.

He looked like he was about to drop to his knees and beg. It was honestly sad. Why did things like this have to mean so much to him?

Everyone else got by on a few hours of contact via comms every night.

But, no.

That wasn't good enough for Dick.

He wanted them to spend time together.

In person.

During the day.

It wasn't natural.

"What about the others? Can't you ask them?" Tim questioned, frowning.

He didn't feel even a little bad at the idea of foisting Dick off on his siblings. As long as he didn't have to deal with it, he didn't even care.

"Uh… well…"

"Seriously?" Tim gaped. "They all said no? Doesn't that make you want to stop and rethink this?"

"No! Because none of them understand the spirit of this?"

"What spirit?"

"The spirit of family! You know what I mean, Tim! _Ohana!_ "

Tim dropped his face into his hands. "Don't quote _Lilo and Stitch_ at me."

"Why not?" Dick demanded passionately. "It was a great movie!"

"Jason started singing Elvis! On patrol! We were sharing a route that week, Dick! He can't sing! He. Can't. Sing."

"I was there; I heard him over the comms, Tim. It was hard for me, too."

"Obviously not, because you keep bringing that movie up."

"It was a great movie!

"Fine! Go watch it and leave me alone!"

"Tim! This is important! Family Day! _Family."_

Tim exhaled sharply and rubbed at his forehead. Okay, time to try something else to get Dick to leave him alone. "Have you considered the ramifications of this?"

Dick blinked. "What ramifications?"

"Lawsuits," Tim stated plainly.

"Do you and Jason have some sort of mind link, or something?"

"Don't ever suggest that; I don't want to know what goes on in his head. More importantly, Jason is finally saying something that makes sense. We're bound to get sued."

Dick stared at him sadly. "But, Damian's been in school for months and we haven't gotten sued yet!"

"And that's a miracle," Tim conceded. "But putting us all in one place – or even just you, me, and Damian – is just asking for trouble. This event is at least 16 lawsuits waiting to happen. And then we're going to have to settle out of court and people will ask questions. Imagine the scandal. W.E. stock will fall; we'll have to declare bankruptcy. We'll be poor and destitute and our standard of living will fall and we won't be able to protect the city with same efficiency as we did before. The fate of Gotham rests on us not going to Family Day, Dick. Think about that. Just… take a minute and think about that."

Was Tim exaggerating?

Maybe.

But hyperbole was a recognized form of rhetoric and he really needed Dick to give up on this idea.

Tim didn't have any other options.

"Tim, please…?"

Tim grimaced and patted Dick's shoulder. "Quality of life, Dick. Quality of life."

Dick nodded absently and trudged out of Tim's room. Tim stared after him, feeling a little bad.

And then he got over it.

 _(Crisis averted. Time to get back to work.)_

* * *

Dick walked aimlessly through the halls of the Manor. He sighed heavily.

He couldn't believe that not even one of them had agreed to go.

Not even Cass!

He just didn't understand it. What was wrong with wanting to go to Family Day? It would be fun to just play a bunch of games and eat nice food and be outside as a family together. And maybe being surrounded by a bunch of civilians would actually stop the others from fighting.

Well, there was no way that was true, but all of the other stuff could have been if they had just been willing to try!

"Is something wrong, Master Dick?"

Dick looked up slowly, giving Alfred a strained smile. "No, Alfred, I just-"

( _Wait a minute.)_

Dick blinked and stared at Alfred like he held the answers to everything in the world. Honestly, he probably did, but that was another matter entirely.

"Alfred. Alfred. Alfred! I need your help!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. It was only vaguely judgmental, so Dick felt safe to proceed.

"Next Friday, at Damian's school, they're having Family Day. And nobody will come! I've talked to Bruce and Cass and Jason and Tim and none of them want to go. Will you convince them, please? Or at least Bruce? And he'll make them go! And then we can have a nice day out! Please, Alfred!"

Dick tensed in anticipation, waiting for his answer.

Alfred hummed. "Well, I suppose I could use a day off."

Dick grinned, stunned. He'd wasted all that effort trying to convince them individually, and he could have just gone to Alfred from the start!

"Thank you, Alfred! Thank you!"

"Of course – though… Have you spoken to Master Damian about this?"

Dick coughed nervously, shifting from foot to foot. "Uh… no. But, you know, it'll be a fun surprise!"

"Of course, Master Dick. I'll speak to Master Bruce; I'm sure Master Damian will enjoy his surprise."

Dick laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Well, that was full on judgmental. "Right. Well. I'm just gonna'… Thanks, Alfred! See you later! Bye!"

That was a close one.

On the bright side, Alfred was going to make sure they all went to Family Day!

( _This is going to be great!)_

* * *

Damian slipped on his backpack, grimmer than usual.

He didn't like school. He hated it on a good day – though, there had never actually _been_ a good day.

But today was going to be worse than any other day.

 _Family Day._

Damian had been dreading it since it had been announced, but, now it was here and there was nothing he could do about it. Andrews had told the class that they weren't required to come unless they were participating in the event and bringing their families, so Damian would have loved to stay home, but…

Staying home would have tipped Grayson off, and the last thing he wanted was for Grayson to find out about this ridiculous day. Because, if he did find out, then he would insist on the family going to school with him.

And that was _not_ something Damian would allow to happen.

So, he was making a sacrifice for the sake of his sanity: he would go to school and sit in a corner somewhere until the day was over, and no one would ever be the wiser.

All of Damian's dreams were shattered when he walked into the kitchen to find Pennyworth, only to come face to face with his brothers and sister instead.

Though Todd, Drake, and Cain looked appropriately calm, Grayson was grinning like an insane person.

"Happy Family Day, Dami!"

"See! Look at that face! He doesn't want this," Todd shouted, pointing at Damian.

"Nobody wants this," Drake drawled.

"Dick wants this," Cass commented.

"He doesn't count," Drake dismissed.

"I count!" Grayson refuted.

"Shut up, Dick," Todd growled. "This is your fault."

"What is going on here?" Damian interrupted.

"What do you think?" Drake snarked.

"How?" Damian demanded, barely refraining from stomping his foot.

He had been so close to getting to school without their interference!

"Dick follows school moms on social media," Cain explained, shrugging in what seemed to be sympathy.

Damian stared at Grayson in pained exasperation. Of course.

"Come on, Dami, it'll be fun! I mean, great food and fun dames and activities-"

"That argument didn't work when you used it on any of us; it won't work on him," Todd grumbled.

Damian stared. Todd had a point, but that wasn't really what Damian was focused on.

They were coming with him.

To school.

This was going to be the worst day of his life.

He heaved a sigh and straightened his back. "Fine. Let's go."

"We're waiting for Bruce," Grayson said, still smiling.

"Father's coming?" Damian asked, shocked.

"Yeah! Isn't it great?"

It was horrible actually. He didn't want his father anywhere near that awful place.

"I hate you all," he declared.

Grayson's face fell.

"The feeling's mutual," Drake said casually, leaning against the counter and adjusting his lapel.

Damian sneered, but his response was cut off when his father walked into the room.

"Damian," he greeted steadily, before turning to Grayson exasperatedly. "Are we ready to go?"

"No," Todd interjected. "I feel like we need to address the most important aspect of what's happening here. Not the fact that you, Bruce, are forcing us to go to this stupid event, but the fact that you, Bruce, are wearing jeans. It's disturbing and I need to bleach my eyeballs."

"Really, Jason?" Father asked, grimacing.

"Yes, really. Also, Tim is wearing a three-piece suit like a little jerkwad, and I'm embarrassed to be associated with him – all of you really."

Drake just shot Todd a disdainful look. "Is this the only way you know how to cope?"

"Yes," Todd acknowledge unashamedly. "This and violence."

Drake snorted, arching an eyebrow first at Grayson and then at Father. His sarcasm was palpable. "Well. Today should be fun."

Damian stared at all of them and grimaced.

( _My thoughts exactly.)_


	20. Family Day 2

**Title:** The Tour

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Not even _Wuthering Heights._

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.

 **Note:** This is the last installment of Grade School. It'll be told in five parts.

I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Walking onto the Academy grounds and seeing all of the kids roaming around with their families – stands were set up, space had been allotted for games, there was music playing, and laughter-!

Dick had been excited for this day, but he hadn't thought it would be _this_ great.

He turned around to look at his family, expecting some semblance of enthusiasm now that they were finally here.

"Ugh…kill me now. Again."

Dick stared blankly at Jason.

( _Why?)_

"Do you have a preference?" Tim drawled, scrolling through his phone. "Poison, strangulation, exsanguination, broken neck, stabbing?"

"I don't know," Jason groused. "Just make it hurt, so it distracts me from this atrocity."

"I'll kill you if you return the favor," Damian grumbled.

"Boys," Bruce stated.

Dick smiled. "Thank you, Bruce."

Bruce gave him a pained look before pasting on a smile and waving at the people who were gawking.

Right. Celebrity status was kind of a pain. Especially when you were surrounded by the rest of Gotham's elite.

"Oh my gosh. Bruce is smiling. Make it stop."

"We're in public, surrounded by the upper crust. What did you expect, Jason?"

"You know what, Tim? I don't need your attitude. I'm changing my will and leaving all of my safe houses to Damian."

"I don't want your safe houses, Todd."

"You left your safe houses to Tim?" Cass asked, amused.

Tim shot Jason an incredulous look. "You have a will?"

"After you die once and realize that not having a will means Bruce will give your suit to a nerdy, subpar stalker, you make sure you don't make that mistake again."

Damian snorted.

Tim glared at both of them.

Bruce was absorbed in playing his roll, smiling and waving and shaking hands, and Cass was just watching.

Which meant he was in charge of reigning them in.

This is not how he planned for things to go.

"Guys," Dick hissed, slightly. "Are you seriously having this conversation? Are you actually talking about this?"

"What?" Damian asked with a smirk. "Todd makes a fair point. I should draw up a will myself, to make sure my title goes to a worthy successor in case I can't choose. Otherwise, the worst might happen, and Drake's progeny will take my place."

Jason was cackling. More people were staring.

Tim just scoffed. "As if we're not all sterile at this point."

Cass covered her mouth, but she couldn't hide the way her shoulders were shaking; Bruce's eye was twitching, in spite of his carefully crafted smile; Damian was staring at Tim like he might actually have a point; and Jason started choking on air.

Dick was just done. With all of them.

"What the- seriously, Tim?" Jason exclaimed, horrified.

"What?" he said, shrugging, the epitome of nonchalance. "After everything we've been through – and been exposed to – do you really think we can have kids?"

"Father had me," Damian countered, though he sounded less argumentative and more curious.

Of course, Tim and Damian could be civil when it came to discussion horrifying things that should never be discussed. Especially in public.

Of. Course.

Tim just shrugged again. "True, but I'm thinking he's less the rule and more the exception. I mean, death, the number of toxins we've dealt with, the radiation from time, space, and inter-universe travel, exposure to various harmful magics and alien substances, physical trauma, etcetera. You really think we're not infertile by now?"

Damian was nodding along thoughtfully; Jason was still choking on air; Bruce seemed to be doing his best to pretend he didn't have any children; Cass was barely holding back tears, she was laughing so hard; Dick was, also, barely holding back tears – but only because he had promised himself he wasn't going to cry today, no matter what his brothers put him through.

"Maybe," Dick began weakly, "we shouldn't have this conversation while we're surrounded by small children?"

Tim looked up from his phone, scanning the area. "Oh, right. Kids."

Jason had recovered enough to roll his eyes. "The world's second greatest detective, everybody."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Maybe don't reference work stuff while we're surrounded by civilians."

Jason gaped. "Are you kidding? You just referenced literally every-"

He cut himself off at Tim's smirk.

"Ha, you think you're so funny. Don't think I'm not going to get you back for that."

And now Dick had to watch out for Tim and Jason getting into a fight. Perfect.

He honestly would have preferred having to referee Tim and Damian. Damian listened to him more often than not, and all they ever did was sneer at each other and make threats – with the occasional flying tackle from Damian, but that was easily intercepted.

When Tim and Jason fought, it was a strange, convoluted system of setting each other up for failure, pranking each other in increasingly inventive and destructive ways, or throwing things that really shouldn't be thrown.

This day was already turning out so well!

( _I should have listened to them. Coming here was an awful idea.)_

Bruce turned to them, finally finished with the show he was putting on. Even behind his mask, it was easy to tell he was… actually, it was hard to figure out if that was annoyance, anger, or despair at having such unruly children. His mask was really good.

"Well, why don't we get going? Someone gave me this pamphlet; apparently, we're supposed to head to Damian's class before we get started with all this other stuff."

"Ugh… he's talking to me. Make him stop."

Dick smiled at Bruce – grateful for the redirection – and pretended he wasn't as uncomfortable as Jason. He'd been around it for nearly his whole life, but it didn't make it any less weird to see Bruce adapt his public persona.

The only people who weren't bothered by it were Cass and Tim. Cass because affected mannerisms didn't really change underlying body language, and Tim because "it's a brilliant piece of work; we should all be doing it, to be honest." Or because he liked the fact that it made the rest of them squirm.

Who knew?

Dick nodded at Bruce, grabbing the pamphlet from taking a breath to fortify himself. This day could still turn out okay. "Yes! Let's go. Dami, wanna' show us where we're headed?"

Damian did not want to show them where they were headed. His glare said that clearly enough. But, after an extended staring contest, during which Dick nodded vigorously while grinning harder than he felt, Damian finally gave in.

"Fine," he grumbled. "This way. And try not to embarrass me. I have to see these fools every day and I don't need your ridiculous antics giving them a reason to approach me."

"He's joking, right?" Jason asked.

Cass just shook her head and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Damian's shoulders.

"Oh, Jason. Don't you know by now that Damian doesn't have a sense of humor?"

"Are you sure you aren't talking about yourself, Drake?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one with a sense of humor in this family," Jason interjected.

Tim scoffed. "And by sense of humor, do you mean morbid death jokes or crass commentary?"

"Just because you don't get it doesn't make it any less funny!"

"Actually, Todd, I think that's what people who _don't_ have a sense of humor say."

"Shut up, brat."

Tim shook his head, snickering.

Dick sighed and met Bruce's gaze with a weak smile.

His mask peeled away just enough to reveal his patented "I told you so" look.

Yeah.

Today was going to be _awesome._

* * *

Stepping into Damian's classroom and seeing the look of horror that crossed the teacher's face made Tim wonder why he had told Dick he didn't want to come.

Well, lawsuits. Which were inevitable.

But they would be _worth_ it.

She faltered, but forced a smile and approached them. "Oh. Damian. You're here! And your family. Hi! I'm Stacy. Andrews. Damian's teacher."

"That much is obvious, Andrews."

Did she just-

She flinched when Damian talked to her.

( _Wow. Wow.)_

"Ah, it's good to meet you in person, Stacy," Bruce said, grinning and shaking her hand.

She just nodded and avoided making eye contact with all of them.

"Stacy," Dick said, trying to smile genuinely and failing. "It's good to see you again."

Tim exchanged an amused look with Cass. She saw more than him, but it was easy to figure out that Dick was still uncomfortable around her after her frustratingly incorrect, but warranted comment about Damian being a psychopath.

Either that, or he was just being drained of the will to live the longer he talked to her, simply because she was a teacher. The past few weeks had been full of Dick muttering about how the Gotham Academy administrative staff was his worst enemy.

Dick laughed awkwardly at something that was said before looking to Cass, silently pleading for help. She obliged him with more grace than anyone else in the family would have.

Tim cocked an eyebrow when Jason slung an arm around his shoulder.

"You know, I'm thinking that we probably should have brought her a gift or something. I mean, she has to put up with Damian for hours – five days a week. That's more time than any civilian should have to spend with him in a lifetime."

"That's more time than anyone should have to spend with him in a lifetime."

Jason grinned. "Seriously, though. Stacy's not that bad."

"She called him a psychopath, Jason. I can't condone that sort of ignorance," Tim retorted, mostly joking, kind of serious.

"Totally not her fault. I mean, Damian, Tim. Damian. She's _this_ close to a psychotic break. Look at her."

Tim looked. She _was_ kind of shaking. Though that might be because Damian was looking at her.

He shrugged in response. "I guess."

"Exactly. So, gifts. I've got ten bucks, some nail polish, and a karambit. Except she probably doesn't want a knife – bad memories – the nail polish is Cass's because I'm better at painting her nails than any of you losers-"

"Good for you."

"And I need those ten bucks. What do you got?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, I could give her some shark repellent."

Jason shot him a vaguely disturbed look.

"What? It's useful. I'd want someone to give me shark repellent."

Maybe not. There'd be no telling if their supplier was as good as his – it was just better if he got it himself.

"Seriously? Seriously, Tim? You have shark repellent on you? Right now?"

"What part of _always_ do you not understand, Jason? And you don't get to judge me when you're walking around with a karambit in your pocket. I didn't even know you knew Silat."

"I have hidden depths."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do; I can have hidden depths if I want to!"

"Okay, one: you don't get to choose if you have hidden depths. Two: you know one martial art that I didn't know you knew – that doesn't constitute 'hidden depths'."

"You can't tell me if I have hidden depths!"

"The person who has hidden depths doesn't typically admit to having hidden depths – if those hidden depths are genuine. Because they're trying to keep them hidden."

"Well maybe I think it's time I finally get the recognition I deserve. Ever think about that?"

"No, because you don't deserve any recognition."

Jason barked a laugh. "You know what?"

"What, Jason?"

Whatever, likely ridiculous, comment Jason was about to make was cut off when Bruce called to them.

"Boys, come over here! Don't you want to meet Stacy?"

Jason shuddered exaggeratedly. "Can we kill whatever demon is possessing his body, and do you think Damian summoned it?"

Tim smirked and walked forward, shrugging Jason's arm off of his shoulder. Jason followed behind him.

"And this is Tim and Jason – you know Jason, right, Stacy?"

She laughed nervously. "Yes, yes. Jason. Hi."

"Stacy," Jason greeted, somewhere between pitying and amused.

Tim nodded at her. "So… psychopathy."

Bruce was smiling, but his eyes were completely dead; Tim was always slightly impressed with himself when he was managed to elicit that reaction.

Cass looked exasperated, which was better than disappointed, so he counted it as a win.

Damian was rolling his eyes, but who cared?

Stacy had completely frozen, which was a nice complement to the horrified, strangled noise that Dick let out.

"Oh my gosh, you broke him, Babybird! You broke him! This is wonderful!"

Tim finally admitted to himself that he was a horrible person. He probably should have acknowledged that sooner in his life; he could have avoided putting himself in so many situations where people expected him to be a good person. His life could have been so much easier.

Well, probably not.

He was really a victim of circumstances. Which is probably _why_ he was such a horrible person.

That, and Jason.

Blaming Jason worked, too. He was a horrible influence.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really. "I just… I'm not entirely sure classifying Damian as a psychopath is the right way to go. Just, looking at the characteristics of psychopathy according to APA approved sources, he doesn't fit the bill."

Was he being unnecessarily pedantic? Yes.

Did he particularly care at the moment? No.

He really felt this was an issue that needed to be addressed.

"I- I- I-," Stacy stuttered, looking over his shoulder.

"That's because I'm not a psychopath, Drake," Damian stated, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes like this entire conversation was pointless.

It was.

But still.

"I mean," Tim continued, "if we're going down the list of personality disorders, I'm sure we can find one that matches. And he's definitely not a well-adjusted individual. Just, psychopathy? No. And diagnosing a child as a psychopath – or even a sociopath – isn't exactly standard, given developmental hurdles. You know?"

"Actually, I think it's time to go, huh? Plenty of stuff to do!" Bruce exclaimed, grinning brightly.

"YES! I mean- no. I mean… Okay. Enjoy your day," Stacy stammered, grimacing.

Tim wasn't sure if he should feel bad or not. He really didn't feel like he got to make his point in a way she would understand; but she looked like she was on the edge, so it was probably better to leave now.

"Have a nice day, Stacy!" Bruce called, as he led them out of the class room.

Dick trudged ahead, devoid of life. Cass linked her arm with his and pulled Damian along with them. Jason cackled quietly, shooting a grin Tim's way before walking ahead.

Bruce sighed heavily and _looked_ at him.

He winced. "I know, I know, just…it actually really bugged me. I mean, what are we donating to this school for if not to fund the hiring of properly educated teachers?"

"Right."

Tim paused thoughtfully. "She is getting a check, though, right?"

"As soon as the school year's over," Bruce affirmed quietly.

Tim nodded.

She deserved it.

* * *

"All right," Jason began, "if Tim gets to torture poor innocent teachers like some Damian knock-off-"

"Oh, please," Tim muttered.

"As if he could ever compare to me in any way."

"I'm the original."

"You're the Replacement," Jason countered before continuing his speech. "Then I get a tour before we go around doing lame stuff that Dick wants to do."

"It wouldn't be lame!"

"What tour?" Bruce asked, exasperation tinging his tone.

At least he sounded like a normal person.

Or, normal for Bruce, anyway.

"Damian has to take us around the school and show us all the places where he ruined people's lives. Mostly Dickiebird's, by making the school call home."

Dick looked bereft. "Can we not?"

"What are you talking about, Todd?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tim snarked.

"No!" Dick interrupted. "We are not doing this to me!"

"You don't get a say," Jason declared. "Where to first? Timmers? Cass?"

Jason ignored Bruce, Dick, and Damian, because their opinions really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Cass shook her head with a small smile and shrugged. "I don't know."

"The gym, obviously. It got him suspended."

"Nice, Tim, nice! You've officially surpassed Damian on my list of favorites siblings."

"Oh. I change my mind. Let's not go on a tour. Anything that pushes me higher on your list is something I do my best to avoid."

Jason rolled his eyes and smirked. "You know what, Tim, no one likes you. Besides, you know this is a great idea."

The corner of Tim's mouth lifted slightly. "One of your few."

He was such a jerk. It was great.

"Whatever. I have great ideas, right, Cass?"

"Right," she agreed.

"Ha! See? All right, Damian, lead the way to the gym."

Damian stared at him, kind of like he didn't believe what he was hearing, mostly like he wanted to fight him.

"Let's just get it over with, Little D," Dick said with a sigh, staring into the distance like he was friggin' Heathcliff.

Man, Dick was dramatic.

Damian sighed heavily but began walking.

Jason grinned, wrapping an arm around Cass's shoulder and winking. "Steph is going to be so jealous that she couldn't be here."

"She was the only one who wanted to go."

"And, from now on, I will bow to the eternal wisdom of Steph, who always seems to know how best to torment Damian. Seriously, it's like she's got a sixth sense. It's creepy. And amazing."

She smiled slightly. "Are you tormenting him?"

Jason shrugged. "Eh. It's more like tormenting Dick. Damian's in complete agony over the fact that this thing is even happening; I don't think anything I do could actually make it worse. Which is sort of painful for me to admit."

She leaned into him. "Poor Dick."

"He's a man. Sort of. He'll get over it. Probably."

She laughed a little, and he smiled before looking over his shoulder.

"Get off your stupid phone, Tim. Unless you're documenting this for posterity."

"I think we've already been over the whole posterity-issue once today…"

Cass kept laughing, but Jason only stared at Tim, disturbed.

"How about you never bring that conversation up again?"

"Seconded," Dick chimed in.

"Actually, let's talk more about that. Tim? Thoughts?"

"Seriously, Jason? Did I do something to you recently?"

"You're the reason we're here!"

"You seemed happy about that just a minute ago!"

He had been. He still was. But it was always fun to mess with Dick. "Yeah, well, what are you gonna' do, Dick? What are you gonna' do?"

"If the two of you are done, we're here," Damian interrupted, shooting the two of them unimpressed looks. "Let's get this over with."

Jason grinned and walked into the gym, looking around. There weren't many people in here, which was good because it meant that he wouldn't have to put up with Bruce smiling. He was definitely going to have nightmares.

"So, this is it," Jason breathed, a little awed. "This is where you threatened to gouge out your gym teacher's eyes."

"That was in the hallway, Todd."

"Yeah, Jason, get your facts straight."

"No one asked you, Tim."

"Why are you encouraging him?" Dick questioned, pained. "Threatening his teacher wasn't good. He-"

"Good morning! I'm Ms. James. How-"

The woman who walked up to greet them stopped talking as soon as she laid eyes on Damian.

( _I feel so blessed.)_

"Oh. You."

Tim's poker face was in full effect; Jason wondered how hard it was for him not to laugh at her reaction. Jason wasn't even trying to stop himself.

"Ah, Ms. James! Hello! We just thought we'd take a tour of Damian's school; you only had the one class with him – exercise-induced asthma, you know – but we still thought we'd visit, you know."

At this point, Jason wasn't even bothered with Bruce's cringe-worthy pleasantness.

Exercise-induced asthma. He'd forgotten that he and Tim had come up with that.

( _Good times, man. Good times.)_

"Martha! Have you seen my- Oh."

Jason wasn't even losing it. He had already lost it. It was gone. He. Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Tim looked over only to see Tim nodding at him seriously.

"Great idea," he affirmed.

Jason patted Tim's back firmly. "It's better than I ever thought it could be."

At a raised voice, Jason turned back to the conversation going on between the others.

"Do I need to get a restraining order?" the man who walked up asked, looking frightened.

"What?" Dick asked, mouth hanging open. "No! We're not- please-"

"He's glaring at me! He's glaring! If you don't leave, I will file a restraining order! Don't ever come near me again!"

Dick looked at a complete loss. "I- he's not- we don't-"

"I don't care! I still have nightmares! Martha. Martha, I can't do this."

Tim didn't seem too bothered that Jason was leaning his entire weight against him. He just kept mouthing the word "lawsuit" over and over again, eyes closed as he held Jason up.

Jason didn't care.

He wasn't keeping it together. At all. This was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Damian had edged past Tim on his favorite siblings list again. But really, it had only been a matter of time.

"All right, sport, don't worry about it, huh? We're leaving! Come on, let's go, everyone."

"Sorry about your PTSD!" Jason called as Tim pulled him out of the gym.

"Hold on," Tim said after they had left the room. "I need a minute."

"Tt. His reaction was completely disproportionate. He was calm when he informed me that I couldn't participate in physical education," Damian grumbled, shooting glares at all of them.

"Sometimes, things like this take a while to set in," Cass explained calmly.

He didn't understand how she was so chill. But that was just Cass.

"I can't breathe," Jason gasped, leaning next to Tim against the wall.

"We're going to get sued for emotional distress after he files that restraining order," Tim said, though he sounded more amused than bothered.

"I'm sorry, okay, Tim? I'm sorry about the lawsuits!" Dick cried, looking halfway to a breakdown.

"Grayson! Get a hold of yourself!"

"I can't, Dami. I can't do this."

Damian looked unsure, and then relived when Cass came over to rub circles on Dick's back.

"Deep breaths, Dick."

Jason threw his head back, laughing so hard he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He felt Tim lean his head against his shoulder and turned curiously.

"' _Sorry about your PTSD_ '," Tim repeated.

"We're horrible people," Jason gasped out in between laughing.

Tim nodded vigorously.

"You really are," Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking them at them all like he had officially given up.

Which was a good idea. There honestly wasn't any hope for them. Better not to waste his time.

"Can we move on, please?" Dick begged, apparently having been talked out of hyperventilating by Cass. "Before he comes out and sees us lurking by the door?"

Jason snickered, but went with Tim when he pulled at him.

"Are you sure we shouldn't see this through to the finish?" Jason asked, smirking.

" _Yes_ ," Dick said heatedly.

"Seriously," Tim agreed, "I really don't want to deal with any lawsuits. I'm not prepared to defend Damian in court."

"I'd rather have an _actual_ lawyer represent me anyway."

"I think you're protesting the wrong thing, Dami," Cass pointed out.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "If I ever did have to go to court, I'd want appropriate legal representation. I doubt Drake would be competent enough."

"It's not a matter of my competence," Tim drawled. "I'm not prepared to represent you because of my inherent bias against you. It'd be a conflict of interest."

Damian sneered.

"Where to next?" Dick questioned, louder than he should have.

This was great.

"The Cafeteria," Tim said. "We need to see where Damian got sent to the office for smoking. And where he attacked Davidson."

Tim's sneer was a near perfect copy of Damian's. That was fair: Jason got angry whenever he thought about that stupid, freaking kid, too.

"That seems like a bad idea," Bruce objected.

He was duly ignored.

"Let's get this done so we can actually do something fun," Dick groused, expression going sour.

"I feel like you're probably the only one here that isn't having fun," Jason teased, following after Damian when he started walking.

"Bruce isn't having fun," Dick retorted.

"Bruce doesn't know what fun is."

"Well, Damian isn't having fun either! Right, Damian?"

"Obviously not."

"Damian also doesn't know what fun is."

"You know what I'd find _fun_ , Todd?"

"Is this going to be some comment about you seeing him in pain?" Tim asked wryly.

Damian didn't respond.

( _That's a yes.)_

"Here," Damian grumbled after a few minutes of walking, shooting a glare at Jason and Tim. He pointed at a spot on the ground, smirking slightly. "This is where I tackled Davidson."

Jason stared. "Wow. Can you believe we're actually here, Timmy?"

Tim's lips twitched. "You know what this means?"

"What?" Jason asked, grinning.

"We need to take pictures. Steph is going to want to see this."

"Absolutely," Jason agreed. "Cass, you want in on this? Dick, you don't get a choice; get over here and stop pretending you don't want something to commemorate this moment by."

He pouted a little, but came to stand by them without complaint.

'All right," Tim stated, standing in front of them as they stood on the spot. "Damian, you get in front. We're all going to kneel behind him. Jason, you go on the far right; Dick, Cass, go next, and I'll go on Cass's other side. B, take a few shots, okay?"

Tim walked around and claimed his spot. Jason just looked at him.

"You know, when someone asks me how my little brother became so good at photography, I'm going to have to tell them you learned it from stalking. Do you understand how weird that's going to be for me, personally? Considering I'm one of the people you stalked?"

Damian snorted, and Tim narrowed his eyes at both of them.

"Smile," Cass instructed, pointing at Bruce.

"Say 'cheese', on 3," Dick added, already grinning.

Jason thought it was a little sad how easily his mood lifted once they started taking pictures together, but it wasn't that surprising. Dick was really serious about this family scrapbook thing he and Steph were doing.

"Nobody does that anymore," Jason complained.

"Say 'Batman'," Cass suggested.

"This is ridiculous," Damian muttered.

"Make sure you smile, Dami!"

Bruce looked slightly exasperated – which might just be his permanent expression at this point – as he stared at them; he obviously agreed with Damian's assessment of the situation. But who cared what Bruce thought? No one. This was an important occasion and photos needed to be taken.

"Bruce! Countdown!" Dick exclaimed.

He sighed heavily, but complied. "1, 2, 3."

"Batman!" Dick and Cass cried simultaneously.

Tim stood after the pictures were taken. "Did you get a good shot?" he inquired, taking his phone back from Bruce and flicking through the photos. "This one is nice."

"We should hang it," Jason said.

He hadn't seen it yet, but any reminder of the time Damian got away with threatening his bully with a knife should be celebrated.

"We'll put it on the refrigerator," Dick approved.

"Are we done here?" Damian questioned, crossing his arms and looking away from them.

Cass hugged him to her side. "To the next spot then."

Damian nodded grudgingly and led them the rest of the way to the cafeteria. There were a couple of families sitting at various tables – snobs that didn't like the idea of eating stall food probably.

( _You gotta' love Gotham's elite.)_

"It's through those doors," Damian told them, gesturing to the back exit.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Tim scoffed.

"What?" Cass asked, cocking her head.

The look on Tim's face was coolly assessing and about 5 seconds away from being that brutally calculating expression that tended to come out when he was faced with something that bothered the Red Robin in him.

Jason looked around. He didn't see any supervillains or paparazzi, so he had no idea what could be upsetting him.

Tim didn't answer Cass, walking forward purposefully.

Bruce's eyes were squinted in that way that meant he was expecting one of his children to do something vaguely illegal.

Jason was kind of excited to see what was about to happen, so he followed after Tim. Dick and Cass joined him, pulling Damian along.

"Ah," Damian hummed. "This is going to be a disaster."

"What?" Jason demanded.

There was a strange half-smirk on Damian's face that was a little more vicious than normal. "You'll see."

Okay. Now, Jason was really excited.

He shared a look with Dick, mimicking his older brother's raised eyebrow.

Tim stopped in front of a family of three: a boy about Damian's age, and two people who were presumably his parents. The woman looked up, her lip curling into a sneer when she registered Tim's presence.

"Mrs. Davidson," Tim greeted sharply.

( _Oh, snap.)_

Jason noticed Dick and Cass tensing next to him.

It was official: this was the best day ever.

"Mr. Drake," the woman replied stiffly.

Her husband looked terrified. Her son also looked terrified, though he was looking at Damian. Honestly, she looked terrified, too, but she was hiding it better than the other two.

( _Man. What did Tim say to her in that meeting?)_

"It's good to see you again," Tim continued, with a smile that was completely inappropriate for the given situation.

Except it was completely appropriate because this kid was a jerk, and she probably was too.

"You remember Damian, of course. This is Dick, Jason, and Cass. Everyone, this is Mrs. Davidson. You remember, she called Damian a brat and tried to get him suspended after her son insulted him and told lies about him."

"Oh, those Davidsons!" Dick exclaimed, predatory in a way he rarely was.

Jason honestly wanted to join in on the intimidation tactics, but he was just having too much fun. Also, Cass had started glaring, and the Davidsons looked like they were going to faint as a collective whole, so he figured forcing them to deal with the combined wrath of all 4 of them, plus Damian's fiercely smug smirk would probably be too much.

They didn't want to kill the civilians from fear induced heart attacks or anything.

Not that he was going to intervene or anything.

He just wasn't going to help.

Well, maybe he was grinning a little meanly at them, but he wasn't saying anything, so he figured he was being the most well-behaved of all of them.

"Yeah," Tim confirmed casually, tilting his head slowly as a fake concerned look came over his face. "How's your company doing by the way? I heard your stock fell."

Damian looked as amused as Jason was. But really, what other reaction could one possibly have to Tim's absolutely caustic inquiry?

Mrs. Davidson's face had transitioned from unbelievably pale to disturbingly puce. And Jason's day just kept getting better.

Dick was opening his mouth now, and Jason was preparing himself for something just as harsh, and, _somehow_ , less subtle, when they were interrupted.

"Ah, don't you think it's time we move on? We have to get going if we want to get through all of these activities before the day's over!"

Creepy Bruce had once again made his appearance, and cemented his position as Jason's least favorite family member. Though, there hadn't been much competition.

Jason hated Creepy Bruce.

No one looked like they wanted to move, so Bruce wrapped his arms around Tim and Dick's shoulders and dragged them along, nonchalantly waving at the Davidsons.

"Bye now! Have a good day!"

Jason and the others followed reluctantly, though Damian kept looking back at the table where they'd left the Davidsons, a smirk etched onto his face.

Jason sighed and turned to Bruce as soon as they were out of earshot of the other family. "You came in just when things were about to get good, Bruce!"

Dick nodded and Tim just frowned, both of them disappointed. Cass pouted slightly; she had obviously been as invested in the confrontation as the rest of them.

Bruce just rolled his eyes. "I'd rather none of you got arrested today."

Tim's lips twisted in grudging acknowledgement.

"We've done worse and not been arrested, Father. I don't see the problem."

Jason grinned, patting Damian's back. He loved this kid. "Yeah, Bruce. What's the problem?"

An unimpressed glance was shot his way. "All of you were being unnecessarily hostile."

"What?" Dick cried, looking genuinely confused. "I think that was the perfect level of hostility. It could have been _way_ worse."

"I know," Bruce said dryly. "Now, can we move on?"

Dick nodded slowly with a sigh. "Yeah. I guess."

"And you didn't want to go on the tour," Jason pointed out.

"You didn't even want to come," Dick countered, grinning slightly.

"Eh. To be fair, I don't want to do half the stuff you suggest."

Dick rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "That's because you don't like having fun."

"No, it's because you're lame."

"You're both lame," Damian said decisively. "Now, what's next?"

"Hmm," Dick said, ignoring the insult and pulling the pamphlet out of his pocket. "Let's see what sounds best."

Jason smiled, cracking his knuckles.

He was kind of looking forward to the rest of the day.


	21. Family Day 3

**Title:** Hula Hoops and Snack Breaks

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown (mentioned)

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.

 **Note:** This is the last installment of Grade School. It'll be told in five parts.

I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Dick flipped through the pamphlet, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Not that he wanted to stop.

Admittedly, the beginning of the day had left him feeling like he'd made the biggest mistake of his life by even suggesting that they come to this event.

Admittedly, dealing with Stacy and then watching Tim traumatize her had been horrifying.

Admittedly, Jason's tour idea had nearly pushed him to a breakdown.

But!

It had all turned out okay! They'd taken pictures! They'd intimidated jerks who were mean to Dami!

The day was turning around, and it might even get better: Jason and Cass were obviously getting into it, and Tim was clearly coming around – sort of. And Dami…

Well, Dami was a work in progress.

So was Bruce.

But things were still better than they had been when they'd first gotten here, so Dick had hope.

"Well, Grayson?" Damian demanded. "What next?"

He didn't exactly sound happy about there being a "next", but at least he was asking. Showing interest was a good sign.

Dick hummed and turned to Damian with a smile. "I've got a great idea."

"No, you don't," Jason said, smirking.

Dick stuck his tongue out and turned back to Damian. "On the other side of the campus – bouncy house."

"Yes, absolutely," Jason said, a wide smile forming on his face.

Cass nodded vigorously.

( _I knew it was a great idea!)_

"No," Bruce said.

"… _Bouncy house?"_ Damian repeated derisively, sneering.

"Absolutely not," Tim said, looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

Well, if he had, it was definitely their fault.

"Well," Dick replied, "it looks like we're tied. So… I think we're gonna' go."

"That's a horrible idea, Grayson."

Jason pursed his lips and shrugged. "Honestly, kid, it doesn't matter what you think. We're going. Definitely."

Dick grinned at Jason. He was pretty sure that Jason was planning something ridiculous and didn't actually respect the sanctity of bouncy houses – bouncy houses were awesome; they were like trampolines, but cooler! – but Dick would take what he could get. There was no telling how long Jason would be on his side, anyway.

Tim scoffed. "Didn't you just say that you didn't want to do anything he suggested?"

( _Why do you have to bring stuff like that up, Timmy?)_

Jason snorted. "You can't put me in a box, Tim!"

Tim shot him a dry look. "You put yourself in a box. Like, one minute ago. Everyone was here for here for that."

"Yeah? Well, you can't _keep_ me in a box; I'm taking myself _out_ of the box!"

"Pity," Damian stated. "I liked you better there."

Well.

 _That_ sounded vaguely homicidal and would only lead to a completely different and much more disturbing conversation, so:

"We're going to the bouncy house, because bouncy houses are awesome? Right? Cass?"

Cass nodded. "It sounds fun."

He beamed at her; she was really getting into the spirit of the day!

"Cass thinks it's fun, and we should listen to Cass, so we're going."

"Oh, we should listen to Cass, huh? Where was that attitude when she said she didn't want to come?"

 _And_ Jason was no longer on his side.

Well, he might still want to go to the bouncy house, but he had completely shifted gears at this point.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Can we focus on what matters here? The bouncy house is a great place where only good things happen; that's where we need to be."

"You do know that 5 kids were injured when a bouncy house got swept away by a gust of wind, right? And another kid died from the same thing happening."

Dick stared at Tim in horror. Why did it always have to be this way?

"How do you know this?" Jason demanded, gaping at their little brother.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. "I know things."

"Debatable," Damian retorted. "Though, for once, Drake has a point. These… _bouncy houses,"_ he said, spitting out the phrase disdainfully, "are obviously death traps. And the name alone sounds idiotic. We shouldn't go."

Dick was about to counter Damian's statement with an argument mostly composed of the words "fun", "crucial childhood experience", and "please", when Bruce cut in.

"You are aware of the height and weight restrictions, aren't you?"

They all turned to stare at him.

"Damian is the only one who'd be allowed to go in."

"Crap," Jason muttered. "Why are all of your ideas so horrible, Dick?"

"I got caught up in the moment!" Dick explained. "It's a bouncy castle! They're fun."

"No, they're not," Tim commented. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"I can," Damian muttered.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, we're obviously not doing that-"

Dick found himself sighing simultaneously with Cass. Who even followed those height and weight rules anyway?

"So, what _are_ we doing?" Tim finished.

Dick hummed thoughtfully, letting the bouncy house idea go and turning back to the list of activities in the pamphlet.

"Getting food," Jason suggested.

"You suggested the tour; it's my turn," Dick retorted.

"Hunger trumps turns," Jason said plainly. "And, just because Tim subsists purely on coffee-"

"That's not true," Tim protested.

"Yes, it is; you're a pathological liar."

"You're just saying things we already know, Todd."

Jason snickered. "Well, I don't want you guys to forget who Tim is, you know?"

"Okay, can we get back to the point? If you had one?" Tim redirected.

Jason rolled his eyes, but complied. "Food. I want some. Let's eat. They're selling carnival food, right? Deep-fried corndogs."

Damian snarled. "That sounds disgusting, Todd."

"You're a vegetarian, so no one cares," Jason retorted.

"I love how you marginalize an entire group just because Damian's in it. I respect that. I _aspire_ to that," Tim remarked.

"Oh, grow up, Drake."

"After you, Demon – if your growth hasn't already been stunted so badly that-"

"We can eat after we do an activity!" Dick interrupted.

He didn't want to hear about Tim talking about things being stunted. He also didn't want Damian to attack Tim for picking on his height.

Again.

"Right, Bruce?"

Bruce looked like he didn't want to be pulled into this. Well, too bad. He shouldn't have had so many kids if he didn't want to deal with things like this. It was really his own fault.

"Right," Bruce said with a grimace. "Let's go."

"Where?" Cass asked.

Dick blinked. Right. He needed to pick something. "Ah… Oh! Hula hooping!"

"Kill me now," Jason moaned.

"So, you begging for death is going to be a recurring thing today?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

"Apparently."

"It doesn't have to be," Damian said.

"What's with you and killing me today, Damian? Shouldn't you be focusing that on Tim?"

"I think he has enough homicidal intent for both of us, Jason."

"I certainly do, Drake."

Dick sighed and hung his head. "You're not supposed to admit to that, Little D."

"At least not in public," Cass added.

"Can we go?" Bruce interjected.

Dick smiled and turned to him. "Finally enjoying yourself, Bruce? I knew you'd come around."

He looked unamused. Dick just grinned wider and put his arm around Cass's shoulder.

"This is going to be great," he said. "I can break my hula hooping record. I need to get a video of it though; Steph never believes that I can go as long as I can; I don't know why she doubts me."

"Tim, you want to take this one?" Jason asked.

"A deny you the pleasure? Never."

"Really, guys?" Dick questioned, looking back over his shoulder. "My hula hooping record is not a joke."

"You're a joke," Jason retorted.

Dick should have expected that one.

"I can record it for you, Dick."

"Thank you, Cass. Cass is a good sister," Dick said pointedly.

"Cass is a good everything," Tim said dryly. "You really shouldn't be comparing us to her."

Cass just smiled, laughing and shaking her head.

"How long is your record exactly, Grayson?"

Dick smiled and opened his mouth to answer – he couldn't believe Damian was actually interested! – but Tim cut him off.

"Wait, you actually care?"

"Obviously not. I just want to know how long we have to put up with this ridiculous activity."

Dick's face fell.

Of. Course.

"Now, now, children," Jason said. "We should support Dick; this is the only thing he's good at, so we shouldn't make fun of him for it."

"Grayson is more than adequate at plenty of things, Todd."

"Thank you, Damian," Dick said, smiling.

Damian nodded seriously. "While half of them are utterly pointless and hold no true value in real life, that doesn't mean he isn't good at them."

Jason threw his head back, guffawing. Tim snickered. Bruce rolled his eyes, very much unsympathetic. Cass patted his shoulder. Dick just smiled and shook his head – as backhanded as it was, a compliment from Damian was a compliment.

His grinned and turned to look at the others when they arrived at the site. "All right, let's go!"

"Ha ha, no," Jason replied.

"Yes. All three of you."

Dick wasn't the only one gaping at Bruce. He was, however, the only one smiling at him after he got over the shock. Dick had no idea why Bruce was making the others participate, but he didn't actually care.

"Great!" Dick exclaimed. "Come on, let's grab our hoops before they start the next round!"

Tim shook his head. "I feel like this is punishment for something."

Damian scoffed. "For you maybe, but I haven't done anything wrong."

"Keep telling yourself that," Tim retorted.

Damian glared. "Father has his reasons."

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "He hates himself and is taking it out on us by making us _hula hoop_."

Damian snarled silently at Jason, but Dick grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the hoops before things could escalate.

"Okay, let's get our hoops. Here you go, Dami."

Dick grabbed his hoop and handed one to Damian. Damian took it reluctantly, looking at him with pursed lips.

"What am I supposed to so with _this?"_

Dick blinked. Right. Damian didn't know how to hula hoop.

"Oh! I'll start, and you just copy me, okay? Jason, Tim, here."

They took the hula hoops he passed him with little enthusiasm, but he didn't stop grinning. He was totally going to show Steph.

"Cass, are you recording?"

She held up her phone and gave him a thumbs-up.

"All right, Dami, watch!"

Dick readied his hoop and waited for the signal from the judge timing the event.

"Ughh…" Jason groaned once Dick started hulaing.

Dick rolled his eyes and grinned. "Come on, Jaybird! It's fun."

"You keep saying the word 'fun', but you have no idea what it means."

Dick ignored him. "Want to give it a try, Dami?"

Damian did _not_ want to give a try.

Neither did Tim, for that matter.

"Do you guys even know what participation is?" Dick asked wryly.

They ignored him.

Dick smiled at one of his competitors before turning to wave at Cass.

"This is so boring!"

Dick turned and shot a look at Jason. Jason ignored him, hefting his hula hoop repeatedly and shooting a thoughtful look at Tim.

That was a bad look.

Oh, and Dick was right.

"Hey, Tim, catch!"

Jason hurled the hoop at Tim, but he miscalculated – throwing a hula hoop wasn't like throwing a batarang, go figure – and ended up hitting Damian right in the face.

( _This is going to end_ horribly.)

Dick exchanged a look with Tim before turning to Bruce and Cass.

Cass looked invested. Bruce looked like he was regretting forcing the others to participate, which was fair.

"Look, Damian-"

Damian didn't care what Jason had to say; he snarled before lifting his hoop and charging at Jason. Jason stepped backwards hastily, knocking over a middle-aged man who he had probably just caused to break his hip.

This was why Tim had been concerned about lawsuits. Dick understood that now.

"Sorry," Jason called out before stealing a 12-year old's hula hoop, ignoring the girl's protest and brandishing his weapon at Damian. "Damian. Be reasona- wait, who am I talking to?"

Their hoops clashed together. Jason grinned; Damian continued to snarl.

"You'll pay for that, Todd!"

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Other contestants were diving out of their way as their battle continued; the judges looked at a complete loss.

Dick was also kind of at a loss – or, he would have been, except these were his brothers and he was honestly not sure what else he had been expecting.

Tim looked comical, standing there in his 3-piece suit, barely five-feet from Jason and Damian's increasingly heated fight, holding a pink and orange striped hula hoop and staring up at the sky blankly, like he was mentally preparing to scold Superboy for taking so long to come save him.

Dick cracked a smile. He shouldn't be enjoying this because it was horrible, but it was actually pretty funny. People were getting knocked down, and half of them looked more terrified than annoyed… but it was pretty funny.

"Ow!" Jason cried when Damian landed a hit below his knee. "Okay, you know what – truce! All right! Truce!"

"Not in a million years, Todd. Accept your fate like man."

"No, no, no! Hear me out, okay?"

Damian was still in a fighting stance, but he had lowered his hoop slightly. "What? And talk quickly."

"I was aiming for Tim. How about... we go after Tim. Together."

Tim snapped back into reality with a jerk. "What."

But it was too late: appealing to Damian's eternal willingness to fight Tim was always foolproof.

Damian smirked, his anger falling away into the easy pleasure that characterized his actions whenever he was tormenting Tim.

"You have a deal, Todd."

Tim looked at them in disbelief. "No."

They ignored him and launched an attack coordinated enough that they could have been suited up.

Dick bit his lip as Tim worked to avoid their attacks, the three of them heedless of the surrounding crowd.

Bruce had his headache face on again, and Cass had stopped recording Dick to follow Jason, Damian, and Tim's exploits. Dick couldn't blame her. He kind of wanted to join in – he would, except he really needed to break his record.

"Fight back if you don't want to die, Drake," Damian taunted, swiping his hoop at Tim's neck only for Tim to drop gracefully to the ground as he dodged it.

"Yeah, Tim," Jason joined in, "your life is on the line here."

Tim looked severely unimpressed, even as he barely avoided getting clocked on the side of the head by Jason. "Really? You're going to kill me here. In front of dozens of people – hundreds, if you count everyone on campus."

"You think I don't know how to take care of witnesses?"

"He knows how to take care of witnesses, Tim."

Dick huffed. He really didn't think that was the argument that Damian should be making – like, at all – ever – but, on the other hand, it was nice to see Damian having fun.

Tim winced when Damian hit his shoulder, but just shot him an annoyed look. "You're both insane. I'm not doing this."

"Is it because you're in a pretentious suit surrounded by pretentious people? Because you're not above this, Timmers. You're really not," Jason said, grinning.

"You're not above anything, Drake."

Tim heaved a sigh, jumping over a swipe Damian made at his feet before smacking Jason clear across the face.

"Nice job, Timmy!"

"Shut up, Dick!" Jason shouted.

Dick beamed, he shouldn't be encouraging this, but also, he really should. Because this? This was harmless. And hilarious. And they were all having fun. And there were hula hoops!

He'd known it would be a good idea to come to this thing!

"Damian, I'll compensate you if you come to my side."

Jason gaped at Tim in shock. Damian was also gaping. Dick barked out a surprised laughed.

( _Oh, that's great, Tim!)_

"Hold up!" Jason protested. "You can't just whack me in the face and then try to steal my partner!"

Well, apparently, he could, because, after a brief and disturbingly ominous silent conversation between Tim and Damian, Damian smirked.

"Very well, Drake. You _will_ be paying me as soon as we return to the Manor."

"Obviously."

Jason shook his head slowly. "E tu, Brute?"

"I got a better deal, Todd; it's your own fault for failing to compensate me appropriately."

"We were attacking Tim! How is that not appropriate compensation?"

"Some things are more important," Tim snarked.

"Only just, Drake. Only just."

The battle started again, more vicious than before, not that all of them were participating. And because Tim and Damian were unfairly terrifying on the rare occasions they decided to work together.

Dick glanced over at Cass with a smile, but frowned when he noticed Bruce wasn't standing with her. He looked over his shoulder, grinning wryly when he saw Bruce charming the judges and various participants who had been forced to the sidelines due to the fight. That was a good idea – maybe Tim wouldn't hound him about lawsuits after all.

Dick turned back to his brothers, still grinning, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Jason.

"Okay, you know, what? You guys are horrible. Here I am, an innocent citizen of Gotham-"

"I'm trying to decide if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever said, but there are so many instances, it's hard to tell."

"I've given up on trying to classify his insanity, Drake. It's a lost cause."

"Oh, ha ha. You guys think you're so funny, but I know where you sleep."

"That sounds like something an innocent citizen of Gotham would say," Tim drawled sarcastically, aiming a particularly brutal strike at Jason's neck.

"I feel like you're both taking this too far," Jason muttered and he ducked out of the way and stumbled backwards to avoid the shot Damian aimed at his legs.

Dick kept hulaling – he was the only one competing at this point, but that was fine; he wasn't in it to _win_ , he was in it for the _record_ – but frowned slightly when he realized they were getting closer to him.

"Uh, do you guys maybe want go the other way? I mean, this is great and all – it's nice to see the three of you bonding – but I'm in the middle of something important."

They ignored him.

Typical.

Damian had a surprisingly lofty tone for someone who was trying to annihilate his older brother with a polka dotted hula hoop. "You shouldn't have started a fight you weren't willing to finish."

"It's a hula hoop fight!" Jason stated, entirely exasperated.

"A fight's a fight, Jay," Tim explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you channeling Damian right now? Is that what's going on here?"

They were getting really close – really close. Dick tried to edge out of the way, and he definitely would have made it if Jason hadn't tripped into him in his effort to escape Tim and Damian.

"Ow!" Dick cried, barely managing to catch himself before rolling out of Jason's way so he didn't get trapped under him. And how unfair was it that his little brother was bigger than him?

( _Wait a minute.)_

He was on the ground. His hula hoop was on the ground. He had stopped hulaing.

"NO!" Dick cried. "I was in the middle of breaking a record! I was so close; how could you?"

"It was in pursuit of the cause, Dick. We all have to make sacrifices," Tim drawled, holding his hoop casually like it wasn't some sort of weapon of mass destruction.

"Some things are more important, Grayson," Damian added solemnly, raising his hoop above his head. "Goodbye, Todd."

"What is my life?" Jason asked, staring up at the sky blankly from where he was sprawled on the ground.

Damian swung his hoop downwards with all the intent and gravitas of an executioner. Jason rolled out of the way at the last minute, only to be smacked in the face by Tim.

Jason came to a stop on his knees, clutching his face. "Seriously? What's wrong with you? That's the second time you've gotten me in the face!"

"Not like there's any reason I should avoid it."

"That's cold, Tim," Dick commented, getting back to his feet. "You know what else is cold? The fact that none of you care that you ruined my record!"

"Let it go," Jason muttered, standing up. "They don't have hearts. Food?"

Dick wanted to protest, but Tim and Damian were smirking and shaking hands in a disturbingly professional manner for two people who had just destroyed their older brother with hula hoops, so he really didn't have it in him to do anything but smile.

"Fine," Dick acquiesced. "We can get food, but Tim's paying for mine because you guys ruined my hula record."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," Tim said dryly.

Dick just grinned and walked forward, slinging an arm around Tim's shoulder. "You agreed in your heart."

"Didn't you hear? I don't have one."

Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Cass as she walked over to where they were. "Jason's just upset you smacked him in the face."

"Twice!" Jason shouted.

"Grow up, Todd. You got what you deserved."

"Brat."

Dick grinned, winking at Bruce, who was staring at all of them, drastically unamused.

"Hey, you'll send me that video, right, Cass?"

"I'm sending _everyone_ the video."

"Please don't," Tim asked.

"Too late."

Dick grinned. "Awesome."

* * *

Tim adjusted his jacket, shooting a half-hearted glare over his shoulder.

Jason was busy mocking Bruce and Damian, so he didn't notice.

"I can't believe Jason did that," Tim grumbled, straightening his tie. "A hula hoop fight, honestly."

Dick blinked. "Why is that hard to believe?"

Tim shot a look at Dick, who was smiling at him. Why was he so happy? How was that fair? It wasn't. In fact, Tim found Dick's good mood obnoxious.

"What are you gonna' tell Steph about your record?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Dick's smile dropped instantly.

Cass was shooting him a dry look, but Tim ignored it. He had just run around a grass field in a custom-made suit. There were _wrinkles._ He'd have to get his suit _dry-cleaned._

No one should be happy.

"Drake, what did you say to Grayson?" Damian demanded, looking between them with a scowl.

"I just asked a question," Tim replied casually.

"Tim is spreading despair and pain because it's all he knows how to do. He learned it from Bruce," Jason said.

"Father did not-"

"Boys," Bruce interrupted, face slightly pinched as he looked at them.

He probably need a massage. Or a break from them.

Cass slipped from under Dick's arm and went to stand next to Bruce. "Take me to eat."

"That's what we're doing," Dick protested.

"Not here. The cafeteria."

"Elitist," Jason grumbled.

"I can't eat carnival food without Steph," Cass said with a shrug, tugging Bruce along with her.

He went with her easily enough; Tim couldn't fault him.

Except he could. Because it was fine for him to leave, but how could he leave _Tim_?

Tim took a step in Bruce and Cass's direction, but was immediately yanked backwards by an arm around his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, Babybird?"

Tim stared balefully at Jason. "With the other Elitists."

"Ha ha ha. No. You don't get to escape."

Tim sighed and wondered if this was payback- okay, it was definitely payback. Tim just wasn't sure what it was payback _for_ ; there were so many options.

Jason dragged him over to where Damian and Dick were already wandering through the food stalls.

"Okay, what were you thinking, Jaybird?"

"Deep-fried corndogs. And everything else, since we're here."

Damian's sneer was well-earned. For once. "You're disgusting, Todd."

"You can have cotton candy to satisfy your under-developed taste buds, brat."

Dick interrupted in his typical, timely fashion, which was a shame, because that sounded like it was going somewhere great. "Look! They have soft-pretzels! You've got to try those, Dami."

"No, I don't."

Tim shared a smirk with Jason.

Dick was full on pouting, which wasn't exactly a surprise. "But, Little D, you'll love it. I promise! Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Low blow," Jason muttered, snickering.

And it was. Because Damian was staring at Dick with a pained expression, arms crossed, lips twisted, and 5 seconds from giving in.

"Fine," Damian muttered petulantly.

One would think that Tim got tired of being right, but that was not at all the case. Sure, he got a little bored by Damian's predictability, but that was another matter entirely.

Dick grinned. "Okay! So, pretzels and corndogs and definitely cotton candy – did you want anything, Timmy?"

"Freedom," he drawled.

"Something attainable," Dick corrected.

Tim cocked his head.

( _Fair.)_

"Coffee."

"You're going to die," Damian said plainly.

"Yeah," Tim agreed easily. "But coffee's not going to be what kills me."

"I don't think they sell coffee here. You're out of luck, Timmers."

Tim levelled a blank look at Jason. "I bet they sell coffee in the cafeteria."

"Blah, blah, blah. You talk like I care what you say," Jason responded, grinning.

"Todd makes a good point."

"No!" Jason protested. "You don't get to side with me after your unforgivable betrayal!"

"If you knew how to better incentivize-"

"Hurting Tim is the only incentive you need!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Right. I'm going with Dick."

Dick smiled. "This means you're paying, right?"

Tim heaved a sigh. "I'm going to be paying for this _for weeks_."

"It doesn't take you that long to write a check, right?" Dick asked with a weak laugh.

Dick was completely ignoring the emotional trauma of having to write settlement checks. Tim hated settling. That sort of weakness could erode away at the infrastructure of their way of life.

Tim shuddered. "It's not about the money, Dick. It's not about the money."

Dick grimaced. "How about chocolate covered things? Everybody loves chocolate! And it has caffeine!"

"Fine," Tim conceded, lips pursed as Dick pulled him along through the rows of stalls.

"Okay, pretzels first, then something with chocolate." Dick stepped up to the pretzel stall with a glowing smile. "Oh, look! They have chocolate dip! Uh, can we get one of the plain soft pretzels with chocolate dip, one with salt and cheese sauce, and one with cinnamon sugar and icing"

"Are you allowed to have that much sugar?" Tim asked with a half-smile, pulling out his wallet.

"I am a full-fledged adult and I can have as much sugar as I want," he paused and gave Tim a wry smile. "As long as Alfred isn't watching."

"You set the best example."

"None of you ever copy me anyway; I'm not worried."

Tim shrugged as he handed the money to the vender. "That's sound logic."

"Don't sound so surprised!" Dick said, grinning as he reached for the food.

Well, Tim was using the word "food" loosely.

"This is so unhealthy."

"Weren't you just planning on getting coffee – and only coffee – for lunch?"

Tim rolled his eyes as they walked towards the seating area. "You say that like coffee is unhealthy."

Dick arched an eyebrow.

"Coffee has a number of health benefits," Tim pointed out, taking a seat at the first available bench.

"Not the way you drink it," Dick countered, setting the food down and sitting across from him.

"I'm a victim of my upbringing," Tim said with a shrug.

"Are you talking about the fact that you're an emotionless bastard?" Jason asked as he approached them.

"I'm talking about the fact that I got my coffee-habit from Bruce."

Jason snorted. "Even he doesn't drink as much as you do."

"We're supposed to surpass our parents," Tim countered deliberately, eyes shifting over to Damian.

His face was screwed up and his chest was puffed out; there was probably nothing about Tim's statement that didn't offend Damian.

Unfortunately, Tim's comment, purposefully crafted to elicit one of Damian's patented "blood son" speeches, supplemented by the ever-popular "no one can be as good as Father" speech – they were so much fun to pick apart – was wasted when Dick spoke.

"What happened to the cotton candy?"

Jason stared at Dick like he was an idiot before jerking a thumb at Damian, who was grumbling and crossing his arms. "Damian took _exception_."

Tim stared. "Why couldn't I have been there for that?"

"Because you're a traitor and you don't deserve nice things," Jason said firmly. "We can't sit here. There's no mustard here. There's ketchup and barbecue sauce and steak sauce – which, what the heck, where are they selling steak? – but there's no mustard. I can't have a deep-fried corn dog without mustard."

"What a shame," Damian drawled, sitting down next to Dick. "You can't have food callously named after a house pet."

Dick ruffled Damian's hair with a grin before turning to Jason. "I think the steak sauce is for burgers; they're selling those."

Tim rolled his eyes. Again. He was going to sprain something. "Wow, Jason. It's not like you can just take a bottle of mustard from another table."

"Wow, Tim. I'm sorry my first instinct isn't to steal and deprive other people of things."

"You stole a little girl's hula hoop!" Dick cried.

"Tires," Tim said plainly.

"Really, Todd? Really?"

Jason smirked as he walked over to the closest empty table and snagged the mustard. He walked back and dropped down onto the bench next to Tim.

"So," Tim began, "what exactly happened with the cotton candy?"

Jason's lips quirked as he shook the mustard bottle. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Bring it."

"There's nothing to _bring,_ " Damian growled.

"Your perspective is irrelevant," Tim stated.

"Eat your pretzel, brat."

"Ignore them, Dami," Dick said with a sigh. "They won't stop no matter what you say."

"Look at that wisdom, Tim. Look at it."

"I'm so impressed," Tim drawled.

Damian glared, but Dick just shook his head.

"You really should try your pretzel, Dami."

"Exactly," Jason agreed. "Now, where was I?"

"Cotton candy," Tim reminded him.

"Excuse me!"

They all turned to look at the person who had spoken.

It was a kid, younger than Damian, and he looked supremely pissed off.

Whatever this was, it was going to be fantastic.

Tim pulled out his phone and discreetly began recording.

"Can we help you?" Dick asked, smiling and leaning forward.

The kid was surprisingly immune to Dick's charms. He pointed past Dick, glaring at Jason. "You stole the mustard!"

"Oh, my gosh," Tim intoned.

Jason shot a look at him that clearly said "this is your fault".

Tim cocked an eyebrow challengingly.

"HEY!" the kid demanded.

Jason turned back to him. "What?"

"Jason!" Dick cried incredulously.

"Give it back!"

"No!"

"If you don't give it back, you're going to go to jail; stealing is wrong!"

Jason slammed the table. "I'm not going to jail!"

The kid stomped his foot. "Jail! Jail! Jail!"

Tim had to give the kid props for accidentally hitting on Jason's insecurities and running with it.

"Jason," Dick began, a little desperately, "just give back the mustard!"

"I stole it fair and square!"

"JAIL!"

"Little Wing, please!"

Tim was honestly a little in disbelief – partly because this was happening, and partly because he had just shared a genuinely commiserating look with Damian.

"JAIL! JAIL! JAIL!"

"It was his idea!" Jason snapped, pointing at Tim.

Tim looked at Jason, torn between incredulity and amusement that Jason was selling his _brother_ out. To a _kid_. Over _mustard._

"JAIL! You're both going to jail! Batman's going to send you to jail!"

Dick looked somewhere between horrified and amused.

Damian was smirking, but, for once, Tim couldn't blame him. This was incredible.

Jason sneered. "Batman's not good enough to put me in jail."

The kid stomped his foot, glaring fiercely. "Yes, he is. You're both going to jail and you'll die there!"

"You know what?" Jason began.

"What?" The kid responded, purely combative.

"Jason! What are you doing!? I've been looking everywhere for you! I-" a woman walked up to their table, stopping in her tracks when she saw them. "Oh my- I'm so sorry. Has he been bothering you? Jason!"

"He stole the mustard, Ms. Wheeler!"

"Look, this kid just came up here and started hurling outrageous accusations-"

"He's a LIAR!"

"Jason Winston Gabriel! We do not call people liars and we do not accuse them of stealing!"

"But he-"

"No! Apologize right now. Now!"

Tim watched in a strange state of suspended glee as the younger Jason's face contorted into, quite honestly, the most disturbing expression Tim had ever seen.

"Sorry," he gritted out, sounding not at all apologetic, before stomping off without a backwards glance.

"Oh- Jason!" Ms. Wheeler turned to them. "I am… so sorry. So sorry. So, so sorry. Jason!"

The four of them watched as she ran after her charge. Tim was fairly sure the general mood was awe-struck. Even Damian looked captivated.

"Well," Tim said, turning his phone off and looking over at Jason before affecting a thoughtful tone. "Well."

"Shut up, Tim," Jason ordered, somewhere between a laugh and a glare.

"Why should he?" Damian asked loftily. "After all, your namesake-"

"He's not my namesake!"

Damian shot Jason a judgmental look.

Tim grinned at the exchange, offering a smirk at the bemused smile Dick shot at him.

"You know what?" Jason started. "Why don't you eat a corndog? Maybe you'll stop being a jerk."

And then Jason waved his corndog in Damian's face, baring his teeth mockingly.

Damian, predictably, took the provocation _badly._

"Get that monstrosity out of my face, Todd!" he snarled, snatching the corndog from Jason with a harsh tug.

"Your hand is touching it! I can't eat that! Look at this!" Jason cried, turning to Tim and Dick for sympathy.

He should have known looking to Tim was a lost cause, honestly; Tim had turned his cellphone back on as soon as Jason had started harassing Damian.

Dick looked vaguely troubled, which Tim would admit was probably wise.

And here Tim was. Being right. Again.

Damian darted forward, leaning across the table to smash the corndog into Jason's chest.

Dick let out a strange sound that Tim didn't care enough about to decipher.

How could he devote any time to that when Damian had just started a food fight? With Jason?

Jason looked at the crumbs and grease stain on his shirt before looking at Damian, who had settled back into his seat with a triumphant grin.

Oh, did he think this was over? How naïve.

"Did you just stab me in the heart with my own corndog."

It wasn't a question, but Damian didn't really _do_ tonal cues, so…

"Yes," he affirmed, viciously pleased.

Jason nodded slowly. And then he threw his second corndog straight between Damian's eyes.

The absolute shock on Damian's face would make anything that happened for the rest of the day worth it.

Dick let out a laugh before shaking his head furiously. "No. Nope! Okay, let's get you cleaned up, Damian. You want a napkin?" Dick grabbed a handful of napkins from the basket at the center of the table and proffered them to Damian urgently. "Here, you should wipe that off your fa- no! Damian, you're better than this!"

"Don't lie to him, Dick," Tim said, watching delightedly as Damian picked up his pretzel deliberately and brandished it at Jason.

Jason smirked.

Damian reached forward and smashed his pretzel against Jason's head so hard it broke apart. Damian sneered at his, now useless, weapon, apparently disappointed in a soft pretzel's unsuitability as an object to cause blunt force trauma.

While Damian despaired of his choice in weapon, Jason snatched the chocolate sauce Tim hadn't even started using and held it upside down over Damian's hair.

"Gah!" Damian exclaimed, intensely horrified by the cholate dripping its way down his face.

"Not the chocolate sauce!" Dick despaired.

Tim wasn't even mad that Jason had taken it from him without asking.

"That's what you get for-"

Jason's gloating was cut off when Damian smashed his cheese sauce against the bridge of Jason's nose, crushing the condiment cup.

"Oh, the cheese sauce!"

Tim gave Dick a curious look, but figured his oldest brother was choosing to focus on the loss of food to avoid losing his sanity. It was probably the healthiest coping mechanism any of them had ever employed.

Jason pursed his lips before stealing Tim's pretzel and whacking Damian in the face with it.

"I'd eat that, but I don't know where your face has been."

"I know exactly where your face has been," Damian retorted.

Jason cocked his head quizzically.

"He means you were dead. And your face was underground," Tim explained.

Jason shook his head. "I'm kind of worried that you can translate that."

"What else could he have meant, Jason? Damian's not exactly creative."

Damian ignored Tim's insult to look for more ammunition, which just meant that Tim had wasted his breath. Dick noticed Damian's intentions and clutched his food closer, shying away from Damian warily.

"Ha! That means I win," Jason declared with a grin.

Damian snarled wordlessly before snatching the mustard bottle up and squirting it at Jason.

Or, more accurately in Jason's direction.

Because, yes, Jason's face and most of his shirt did end up covered is mustard, but Damian's haphazard assault also made Tim a victim.

Tim doubted Damian was sorry.

"Oh! The mustard! No…" Dick looked horrified, but he was also laughing.

Jason's face was blank as he slowly wiped the mustard off of his face with his hands, smearing the excess off onto the table.

"Well played," he acknowledged before reaching for the ketchup.

"No!" Dick protested, leaning forward and sliding all 3 condiment bottles towards him. He grabbed the mustard from Damian and then hugged all four bottles – along with his pretzel and icing – to his chest. "I am not getting hit."

"You couldn't have done that sooner?" Tim griped, turning his phone off and grabbing a wad of napkins to wipe the mustard off of it and dab at the stains forming on his suit. He didn't even care about the mustard on his face.

"Buzzkill," Jason muttered, grabbing his own napkins and passing some to Damian, who took them with a smirk.

"I win."

"Shut up."

"This is never going to come out," Tim grumbled.

"Oh, so you don't know how to get mustard stains out? And here I was thinking you knew everything."

Tim glared at Jason. "I only know the useful things. Like how to get blood stains out."

Damian huffed amusedly.

Tim stared at him.

Damian stared back.

They shared disgusted looks before turning away from each other.

Tim couldn't believe he'd said something that had made Damian laugh; he was a disgrace. He didn't even deserve to get the stains out of his suit.

"You know, I think the real reason you two fight is because you're so alike," Dick said, nodding in agreement with himself.

"No one asked you," Tim muttered.

"You sound like an idiot, Grayson. Or worse: like Todd."'

"You know what?" Jason asked mock heatedly. "You're a sore winner and a horrible person."

"And here's Jason, everyone, saying things we already know," Tim commented idly, grabbing more napkins and glaring at Dick who was still as pristine as when they had arrived.

"Shut up, Tim."

"Is that all you know how to say?" Tim shot back.

"He has a limited vocabulary, Drake; you expect too much."

"I know more words than all of you!"

"Sit down, Jaybird, you're making a scene!"

They all turned to Dick, incredulous. He shrugged unrepentantly and began eating his pretzel.

"Does anyone else think this is really unfair?" Tim questioned.

"Yes," Jason agreed.

Damian snorted.

"What happened here?"

They all looked to the source of the question, only to find a wide-eyed Cass and a dead-eyed Bruce staring at them.

"Food fight," Dick explained plainly.

Tim shrugged. "It was less of a food fight and more Damian and Jason taking turns putting food on each other."

"Todd started it," Damian offered.

"Lies and slander."

Bruce sighed heavily.

Cass just grinned at them. "It's my turn to pick."

"Joy," Damian groused.

Tim grabbed the last of the napkins, looking down at his suit hopelessly.

( _My thoughts exactly.)_


	22. Family Day 4

**Title:** The 3-Legged Race and Eggs

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.

 **Note:** This is the last installment of Grade School. It'll be told in five parts.

I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

"Okay," Grayson started, clapping his hands and looking them over as they walked out of the school building after their trip to the bathroom. "Everyone clean?"

"Define clean," Drake muttered, shooting a muted glare at Damian.

Damian cocked an eyebrow, unapologetic. "You were a necessary casualty, Drake."

"You are so predictable," he grumbled in response.

"You know what else is predictable?" Todd interjected.

As if anyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

Todd must have realized that because he didn't wait for anyone to show interest. "This whole situation. Frankly, this is what you get for wearing a suit. Even _Bruce_ is in jeans."

Drake stared at Todd blankly before turning away.

"What was that?" Todd cried.

"I'm being the bigger person," Drake said casually, linking arms with Cain who was grinning as she looked between the two of them.

Damian hated to admit it, but he was impressed by Drake's psychological manipulation. In spite of how obvious the tactic was, it was incredibly effective.

Todd spluttered uselessly, staring at Drake's back before turning to Grayson. "Can you believe that guy? This is your fault, Bruce."

Father didn't respond beyond rolling his eyes.

"See! That, right there. Why the heck would you teach him something like that?"

Grayson started laughing, patting Todd on the shoulder sympathetically. "It's okay, Little Wing. Tim can only keep this up for so long."

"That's surprisingly comforting."

Damian rolled his eyes at the interaction before sighing. "What are we doing next?"

Grayson gasped. "Are you finally looking forward to this, Dami?"

"No," Damian shot him down bluntly.

Things hadn't been so bad for a while – attacking Drake and Todd had been an interesting diversion – but getting covered in chocolate sauce had made the day undeniably worse.

Though he would admit to himself that seeing Todd and Drake covered in mustard had been amusing.

Grayson pouted, but looked to Cain for the answer. "Where are we going, Cass?"

Cain smiled and tugged Drake with her to the front of the group. "We're racing."

Drake groaned. "I'm going to sit this one out."

"You can't," Cain replied. "It's a 3-legged race; we need even numbers."

Drake's tortured expression, accompanied as it was by the bright grin on Grayson's face, sent chills of foreboding through Damian.

"Good choice, Cass!"

"Do you hate me?" Drake asked.

"Wait!" Todd exclaimed. "Does this mean Bruce is joining in?"

There was an undertone of unholy glee in Todd's voice that made Damian feel sympathetic for his father.

Or, it would have, if Father hadn't forced him to participate in _hula hooping_ earlier. Regardless of the favorable outcome, it had been a cruel betrayal.

"Cass," Father began.

"You can be on my team," Cain said, smiling unrepentantly.

Father sighed heavily. "All right."

"Really?" Todd grunted. "That's blatant favoritism."

"From who?" Grayson asked, amused.

"Both of them," Todd declared.

"And?" Drake questioned dryly.

"I don't always have to have a point, Tim."

"Then why torture us by speaking?" Damian quipped.

Todd nodded, pursing his lips. "You know what, Damian? Just for that, you can team up with Tim."

"What."

Damian didn't even care that he and Drake had offered the same implicit objection.

It was ignored, anyway.

"You know," Grayson began, that incessant grin only getting bigger, "I was going to pair up with Dami-"

" _Surprise, surprise_ ," Todd interrupted.

Grayson continued, undaunted. "But this is even better."

Damian stared at Grayson uncomprehendingly.

( _How could he?)_

This was just a day of betrayals.

"Bruce, are you planning on intervening any time soon?"

If there was one thing Damian and Drake could agree on, it was the fact that they should never work together – at least not more than once a day.

"Yes, Father, do something!"

"The last time I did something, you started beating each other up with hula hoops. I think I'll stay out of it."

Betrayal after betrayal after _betrayal._

"Father, how could you?" Damian demanded quietly.

He just shrugged, smiling slightly.

Todd exchanged grins with Grayson and Cain, leaving Damian to share a look of horror with Drake.

Damian didn't even know what a _3-legged race_ was, but considering it was a school activity and he had to team up with _Drake_ for it, he knew that this event would be worse than anything he had experienced so far.

"Cue the chaos," Todd commented reverently when they arrived at the event.

"You're horrible," Grayson muttered fondly.

"You supported me in this. So did Bruce. Which means the both of you are horrible too." Todd paused, cocking his head. "That's honestly not anything we didn't already know."

For once, Damian didn't have any objections.

He stared at the people gathered for the activity with a sneer.

And then he saw two of them grabbing a cloth from a box and tying their legs together.

( _No.)_

"Absolutely not. I'm not doing this," Damian protested. "I believe both Drake and I are fine with sitting this event out."

Drake nodded firmly.

"Hmm…" Todd began, mock thoughtful. "Is- is that an option?"

Grayson clicked his tongue. "No, you know, I don't think it is. Cass?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not."

"Tt. Traitors."

"You know who doesn't get to say that? You! You traitored me first!"

"Oh, grow up, Todd! At least I got something out of it."

"And I'm getting something out of this!"

"What could you possibly gain from _this?"_ Damian spat harshly.

"Entertainment."

"Let's just get this over with," Drake grumbled, motioning for Damian to follow him.

Damian wanted to argue, but when Drake passed him, there was a look on his face that made Damian comply with only a small grunt of displeasure.

"Grab 2 extra!" Grayson called as they walked towards the box with the cloths.

"What are you planning?" Damian asked as soon as they were far enough away from the others not to be overheard.

"It doesn't really matter if we win," Drake started, "as long as Jason and Dick lose."

"Sabotage?" Damian clarified with a smirk.

"What else?"

Damian hummed in agreement. "What are you thinking so far?"

"I don't have any concrete plans," Drake admitted with a shrug, leaning forward to grab three strips of cloth from the box provided. "I just know I want them to fail by any means necessary."

"Explosives?" Damian suggested.

Drake cocked his head, considering. "…No. Better save those for later. What else do you have on you?"

"A bolo, a bolo knife, a switch blade, and a marker."

Drake shot him a steady look. "Do you think other non-metas carry as many weapons on their off-days as we do?"

Damian sneered. "Not if they stupidly think we get _off-days_."

Drake sneered back. "I have brass knuckles, a taser, 11 zip ties, shark repellent, and scissors."

Damian twisted his lips; that _was_ fairly impressive. Still. "Scissors?"

"You never know when you're going to have to cut something without looking suspicious," he said, walking back towards the others.

Damian followed, arching an eyebrow, though Drake wouldn't be able to see it. "Carrying scissors _is_ suspicious."

"Bolo knife and switch blade," Drake countered plainly.

Damian shrugged, conceding the point. He frowned slightly when they reached the rest of the family; he couldn't believe this was happening.

Sabotaging Grayson and Todd's chances was less than the two of them deserved.

"Here," Drake said, handing pieces of cloth to Father and Grayson.

Grayson held up his strip with an incredulous expression. "Really, Timmy? You tied it in a knot?"

"That's petty," Todd said, smirking.

"All right, everyone! Line up; the race is about to start!"

Grayson looked over at the announcer, unduly alarmed. "All right, Jaybird, let's go grab a new one. We have to hurry."

"We really don't," Todd replied, following along anyway.

Damian walked with Drake to the starting line, standing a few teams down from Father and Cain.

"It's embarrassing that they think that's all we're planning," Drake commented coolly.

"You've finally come up with something then?"

Drake rolled his eyes, but nodded as he bent down to tie their ankles together; the two of them grimaced simultaneously.

"Well, what did come up with?" Damian demanded.

"I tied the knot so that if we tug our ankles apart hard enough, the cloth will loosen and you can step out of it."

"I imagine we'll be disqualified."

"Of course, but the point isn't to _beat_ Dick and Jason: it's to make them suffer."

Damian hummed in accord. "So, what comes after that?"

"Well, we need to stay in the race up until we're close enough to Dick and Jason that we can catch them off guard. We pull apart and tackle them – you take Dick, I'll take Jason – and zip tie their hands. Here, take one."

Damian eagerly accepted the zip tie that Drake passed him. " _And_?"

"Well, you've got a marker, and I've actually got a gel pen here. We draw on their faces, take pictures, and distribute them throughout the community."

Damian smirked. "I like this plan."

"I _did_ come up with it."

"Which is why I'm so surprised that I approve."

Drake snorted before straightening his stance when Grayson and Todd lined up next to them.

"We're going to take you guys down," Todd said. "You know, if you don't take each other down first."

"If you say so, Jason."

Todd scowled at Drake and then at Grayson. "I thought you said it wouldn't last!"

"It won't! Be patient, Little Wing."

"All right!" the event officiator shouted. "On your marks, get set, go!"

Damian and Drake didn't even have a chance to take a single step:

Grayson and Todd fell over each other, landing on the ground face-first.

( _This is glorious.)_

Damian looked at Drake, only to find the same awed expression Damian was sure was gracing his own face. The two of them looked back at their older brothers, exchanging awe for amusement.

"Jason, what the heck? I thought we said middle leg first!"

"No, you said middle leg first and I said that was stupid!"

"But you didn't clarify that you wanted to do outer legs first!"

"If I said middle leg was stupid, that meant I wasn't doing it!"

"You do stupid stuff all the time!"

"Well," Damian drawled, causing both of them to look up at him. "This is _painfully_ ironic."

"Literally," Drake added. "Shall we?"

Damian nodded, stepping out of their bindings before taking out his zip tie. "You brought this on yourself, Grayson."

"Uh, Damian, what are you doing with that?"

Damian didn't bother responding, grabbing the arm Grayson had started to prop himself up with. That threw his older brother off balance long enough for Damian to grab his other arm and tie his hands together.

"Oh my gosh," Grayson muttered. "This is why we never pair them together."

Damian looked up to see that Drake had been much less gentle, planting a foot on Todd's back and wrenching his arms back mercilessly.

"Seriously, Tim? Seriously! It was supposed to be funny!"

"It is," Drake confirmed, tightening the zip tie before reaching into his suit and pulling out his scissors.

"What are you doing with those?" Grayson asked apprehensively.

Drake rolled his eyes and crouched down, cutting the cloth binding Grayson and Todd together. "Scissors," he said.

"Tt. Knives are better," Damian asserted, leaning down and rolling Grayson over.

"Ow!"

"It's your own fault," Damian said.

"Dami, do you really want to do… this?"

"Yes," Damian replied, pulling out his marker and writing on Grayson's face determinedly.

Grayson grinned wryly. "Well, it could be worse."

Drake looked up from his work on Todd's face, lips quirking in amusement. "'Robin is better than Nightwing'? Simple, but effective."

Damian snorted, smirking as he eyed Todd's new look. "'The Original Replacement'. Fitting."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Todd questioned, looking somewhere between outraged and impressed. "There is something wrong with you."

"On the bright side: Tim is no longer the bigger person," Grayson said, snickering slightly.

"I beg to differ," Drake said, pulling out his phone and taking close ups of Grayson and Todd's face with a rare, blinding grin.

"Why don't you shut up, Tim? And you too, Dick, because this never would have happened if you'd gone _outer leg."_

"We agreed on middle leg!"

"No, _we_ didn't."

"This is sad."

"This is justice," Damian retorted, nodding at Cain as she and his father approached, Cain clutching a small plastic trophy to her chest.

"Oh, you guys won!" Grayson cried. "Nice job!"

"Why are you even surprised?" Todd groused.

"You do realize you could have prevented this," Drake said, raising an eyebrow at Father.

He sighed heavily. "No, I couldn't have."

Drake cocked his head and looked at Damian thoughtfully. Damian shrugged.

"No, you probably couldn't have," Drake conceded. "But you could have tried."

"Are you going to let them up?" Cain asked.

"Tt, no."

"I feel like this is a good place for them."

"Let your brothers up," Father intoned before pasting on a grin and waving at passerby who were staring.

Why couldn't people mind their own business? It wasn't like Damian was butting into their mundane lives.

"So, you intervene on their behalf?" Drake inquired archly, though he acquiesced and bent down to cut the zip ties off of Todd and Grayson.

"Only because you're making a scene."

"What do you mean 'making'?" Todd asked, standing up with a glare. "They made a scene. A scene was made."

"Are we done here?" Father questioned, ignoring Todd.

"I think we caused the required amount of chaos," Grayson offered wryly. He smiled and walked closer, ruffling Damian's hair. "Nice one, Little D."

Damian snorted, smirking.

"If you ruffle my hair, I will ruin your life," Drake said, shooting a judgmental look at Todd.

"I'm never going near you. Ever."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes! And if you're falling off a building you had better hope that someone else will be there to catch you – oh wait, we share a route!"

Drake's lips quirked as he motioned to Todd's forehead. "I think he has some inadequacy issues he needs to work on."

"You're inadequate," Todd shot back.

"Witty and scathing. How will I ever recover?"

"This is not the end," Todd stated.

"That was a _little_ dramatic, Jaybird."

Todd gestured to his face.

"Fair enough," Grayson responded. "So, where to next guys?"

Damian sighed, but didn't bother making a fuss.

After all, these events had been surprisingly satisfying.

* * *

"You know," Dick said idly, rubbing at his cheek and pulling his hand away to look at his fingers, "I don't think this is ever going to come off."

"Now you know how it feels," Tim replied.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Not everything is about your suit, Tim."

"I'd agree, except you're wrong."

Jason shook his head, but decided to just let it go. "You're useless, you know that? Your suit gets a _little_ dirty and all you do is complain. Blah, blah, blah. No one cares!"

Well, he was sort of letting it go.

"You know what, Jason?"

Jason didn't like Tim's tone. "Didn't I just say that no one cares?"

Tim smirked. "You're right. No one cares what I have to say. But a picture's worth a thousand words, so I don't have to waste my breath, do I?"

Dick snickered. "He's got a point, Jason."

"You're not appropriately enraged by this situation, so your input is invalid."

"You're not either," Cass pointed out with a smile.

He didn't have anything to say to that because it was true. He was mostly just amused. Slightly disturbed that this was the second time in one day that Tim and Damian had teamed up to bring him down, sure. But he was mostly amused.

Jason swiped at his forehead with a half-smile that turned to a scowl when his fingers came away clean. "Who even let you have _fast-drying_ gel pens? Where did you _find_ them?"

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Don't underestimate my stationary collection."

Jason stared at Tim blankly.

( _This_ is Red Robin _.)_

"I think it's official, everyone: Tim is the least menacing one out of all of us."

"Tt. As usual, Todd, you seem unable to offer any _new_ information."

Tim scoffed. "I'm sorry, which one of us was caught petting a stray dog – on camera _–_ by a civilian?"

"Only you would equate the proper appreciation and care for harmless animals with a lack of menace."

"Yeah, no, I'm definitely not the only person who does that."

"Which just goes to illustrate how little you understand the concept of striking terror into others."

The look Tim shot Damian was so utterly unimpressed that Jason couldn't help cracking a grin.

"And, once again, all is right with the world," he stated, as the two continued to shoot vaguely hostile looks at each other.

"It was nice while it lasted," Dick commented.

Jason looked at Dick like he was crazy, which, fun fact, he _was_. "Am I the only one who remembers being attacked by the two of them 5 minutes ago?"

"Well, yeah, they attacked us. But they did it _together_ , Jason. That's what really matters here."

Jason turned to Bruce sharply. "Look what you did. Look at him. You did that."

Bruce looked like he regretted it, too. Though that might have been a general look of regret that all of them weren't clones of Cass.

Honestly, the world would be a much better place if everyone was a clone of Cass.

But that wasn't the case, so Bruce should stop being a baby and take responsibility for the fact that he'd hand-crafted a bunch of messed of people.

"Who's turn is it to choose?"

They all turned to Cass in surprise.

Oh, right. They were supposed to be doing something else.

"I veto everything that ends in me getting attacked again," Jason stated.

"I guess we should be leaving then," Damian sniped, crossing his arms.

"Ha ha ha. Yeah, sorry, Tim, he's definitely got the menacing down better than you."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Menace isn't defined as pure homicidal intent, Jason."

"That's fair."

Dick grinned and clapped his hands, interrupting them. "I think it's Damian's turn to choose. Dami, any ideas?"

Damian arched an eyebrow before predictably offering, "Didn't I just say we should leave?"

Dick seemed to be shocked by this turn of events, which was really his own fault. "But we're having so much fun!"

Damian gave a longsuffering sigh, but didn't otherwise protest. Not that he needed to.

Dick pressed forward regardless. "Okay, well, Tim! You haven't suggested anything. Thoughts?"

Tim looked steadily at Dick. "Do they have a suit cleaning game?"

"Are you serious?" Jason barked a laugh. "Buy a new suit!"

"It's not about the suit. It's the principle of the matter, Jason – not that you would understand that."

"I thought it was about the suit," Cass murmured, smiling.

"It's definitely about the suit," Jason replied.

"It's a $3000 suit, Jason!"

"Then you shouldn't have worn it!"

"Funnily enough, when I turned on the weather channel today, the forecaster didn't say anything about mustard," Tim drawled.

"The weather girl on channel 5 is crap anyway."

"She gives thorough and accurate reports, Jason."

"She doesn't tell jokes and her name is boring."

"Oh, well, if that's the criteria."

"It is."

"You're both children," Damian cut in with a judgmental scowl.

"Sorry for acting your age," Tim snarked.

"Okay!" Dick shouted, clapping a bit more desperately than he had before. "Bruce? Suggestions?"

 _(Bruce?)_

Yeah, he was definitely desperate if he was asking _Bruce_ suggestions.

Everyone had joined Jason in staring incredulously at Dick, except for Cass, who was staring at him pityingly, which might have been worse.

"No," Bruce stated.

Dick sagged, but didn't look like he had expected anything else, so he wasn't _totally_ insane. "Right, okay, so I guess that means it's my turn again."

"I object," Jason said firmly.

"On what grounds?" Dick huffed.

"Two words: _middle leg._ "

"We agreed-"

"If we had agreed, our faces wouldn't be covered in _completely ridiculous_ messages!"

"Those messages are entirely accurate, Todd."

"Uh, yes they would be. You don't think we were counting on you two to fail on your own, do you? We had a plan," Tim asserted.

"My point," Jason continued, ignoring his utterly unhelpful younger brothers, "is that you have proven time and time again that your ideas are horrible and awful and should not be listened to under any circumstances."

"Bruce."

"Why do you keep looking to him for help? He can't save you from your own inadequacy!"

"That's true," Tim concurred. "Look at how badly that worked out for Jason."

Damian snorted. "One of Father's only failures."

"What did you have in mind, Dick?"

Dick shot Bruce a grateful look but Jason only shook his head. Bruce was being really arbitrary about the times he chose to intervene. As in, he never intervened when it was absolutely necessary.

Like when Jason was getting attacked.

Or when his face was being _graffitied._

"There's an egg balance," Dick said eagerly, apparently blocking the last few minutes out of his mind in order to retain his embarrassing enthusiasm.

"That sounds fun," Cass said.

"Doesn't it?"

"Actually, it sounds like a disaster. Tim, let the record reflect that I think this sounds like a disaster."

"This whole day is a disaster," Tim responded wryly.

"That's accurate."

"Come on, Jay, Timmy! You guys are having fun, right?"

Jason shrugged ambiguously. "I never said disasters couldn't be fun. That's not on the record."

" _Obviously_ ," Damian began sarcastically, "haven't you seen how needlessly he blows up buildings? He enjoys reckless catastrophe."

"At least I don't terrorize people for the fun of it," Jason shot back.

"Yeah, you do," Dick countered, amused.

"Okay, sometimes, but never with Damian's zeal."

"That would be impossible," Dick agreed, brow furrowing slightly.

"Egg balance?" Tim reminded.

"Getting into it, Timmy?"

"Not you too, Cass."

She shrugged. "I'm having fun."

And Dick's day had officially been made. He also seemed to be infused with 1000 times more energy, which would be funny except he was using it to make them _balance eggs_.

"All right, people, let's go!" Dick commanded, waving his pamphlet in the air and leading them to their next activity.

"I'm not the only one that thinks this is ridiculous considering what we do at night, right?" Jason questioned.

"That is legitimately the worst euphemism possible."

Jason snorted. "Shut up, Tim."

Dick looked at him with a grin. "That was pretty bad, Jay."

"I have worse."

"Keep them to yourself, Todd."

" _Please_ ," Bruce muttered.

"Oh, so you support Damian's creative efforts, but not mine?"

"That would be because _I_ have talent."

"He's got you there," Cass said, chuckling slightly.

Jason put a hand over his heart, grinning. "Wow, Cass. Wow. That cuts deep."

"Not deep enough," Damian quipped.

"Is there nothing you can't twist into some sort of murderous threat?" Tim asked dryly.

"Of course, there isn't, Drake."

"Oh, Dami," Cass murmured fondly, patting his head.

"It's kind of impressive, if you think about it in a certain way," Dick suggested, shrugging with the sort of aplomb of someone who had given up on winning this battle.

"I try not to think about it at all," Tim replied.

"Probably because most of his threats are aimed at you," Jason pointed out.

"Actually, I think you've gotten more death threats than I have today."

Jason gave a snort and smirked challengingly. "Well, today's not exactly a normal day, is it?"

Tim cocked his head before nodding. "Touché."

Jason nodded, swinging an arm around Tim's shoulder. "So, 10 bucks that Cass wins this whole thing."

"How about no because I'm not stupid? She's obviously going to win. If you want to make a bet put it on second place," Tim chided.

Jason rolled his eyes, but conceded the point with a wink in Cass's direction. "Hmm. Well, it's definitely not going to be Damian."

Damian snarled at him, crossing his arms. "I could win if I wanted to, Todd."

"Do you even know what an egg balance is?"

Damian shot him an unimpressed look. "It's a competition to see who can balance an egg on its side the fastest. Obviously."

"That's the most boring thing I've ever heard," Jason responded, not even bothering to correct Damian.

Dick did it for him anyway, so he didn't need to.

"No, Dami, an egg balance is when you put an egg on a spoon and race across a field and put the egg in a basket and then go back to the starting line and repeat the process again until time's up. The person with the most eggs in their basket wins. If you drop your egg, you have to start back at the beginning."

Damian's expression of vague disgust mixed with disbelief was almost as relatable as it was hilarious. "That is the most idiotic and puerile thing I've ever heard of."

"Come on, Little D," Dick cajoled, "if you beat me, I'll even let you lead our patrol route."

Bruce shook his head, apparently not approving of patrol being used as a bribe, but he was boring, so who cared?

Jason was honestly impressed that Dick was willing to go that far just for the sake of an egg balance. It was neither surprising nor particularly respectable, but it was definitely impressive.

Damian obviously thought it was a good deal. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Swear it."

"I swear on my honor and reputation, though they're less than Robin's," Dick offered solemnly, holding his hand over his heart.

Damian's lips twitched, but he nodded sternly. "I'm going to destroy you, Grayson."

"You know," Tim said suddenly, "I think we should probably stop incentivizing Damian's violent behavior."

"Says the primary incentivizer!" Jason protested.

"I don't think that's a word," Cass pointed out.

Jason shrugged and continued berating Tim. "What did you even offer him anyway?"

"I'm not legally allowed to discuss that," Tim said blandly.

"What, did you sign an NDA?"

"Yes," Tim and Damian confirmed.

"No, you didn't! I was there; there was no time out to sign one of Tim's pointless legal documents."

"You only think they're pointless because they're working," Tim stated.

"We've signed an NDA the covers the range of the deals that we make," Damian clarified.

"Why?" Dick asked, rightfully stunned and a little apprehensive.

"We're not legally allowed to say," Tim replied.

Cass was doing her best to stifle her laughter – it was probably the only thing she had ever failed at in her life.

Bruce looked torn between a strange amount of pride and pain – probably over Tim and Damian's existences.

Jason motioned to the people gathered in front of them. "Oh, look. We're here. Finally."

Jason had never thought he'd be glad to get to the next activity, especially considering it was an _egg balance_ , but he was so done with this conversation.

"All right!" Dick exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Let's all line up. Bruce, you want to join us? There are enough free spaces…!"

"They're free for a reason," Damian grumbled, looking at the activity site with crossed arms and a scowl.

"I think I'll sit this one out," Bruce intoned.

"Then you can record," Tim said, holding his phone out to Bruce. "If I have to do this, then I'm determined to get footage that will embarrass Damian."

"I'm not sure you understand how if-then sentences work," Jason commented.

Not that he didn't support Tim's plans – of course he did – he just wasn't sure why Tim couldn't justify wanting embarrassing footage of Damian with a simple "I want video of Damian running around with a spoon and an egg because it's going to be hilarious".

Tim ignored him and pushed his phone further into Bruce's space.

Bruce took the device gingerly. He didn't even handle bombs that delicately. But, to be fair, Tim's phone could probably be used as a WMD under the right circumstances, so the caution was warranted.

"Guys, come one," Dick called, waving for them to join him. "Grab your spoons; we're about to start!"

Jason exchanged a commiserating look with Tim before lining up next the others, both of whom had already joined Dick.

Cass was smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The last time he had seen her do that, she'd tackled Dick and put him an epic triangle arm bar; watching the two of them spar was always so rewarding.

Damian looked… focused. Which was too mild a word for how determined he looked to win. Jason wasn't sure if it would be a wonderful or horrible thing for Damian to lead patrol.

Jason crouched down and picked up the spoon lying in the grass before shooting another look at Tim, who was staring down at his tub of eggs, resigned.

Jason cracked a grin. s"Is this not the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

Tim hummed, still staring into his tub. "I'm trying to decide if it's worth losing my shoes to smash all of these eggs and get disqualified."

Jason smirked, but stopped himself before he encouraged Tim to go for it.

( _Wait a minute. This is a great opportunity.)_

Jason had just had a brilliant idea: he was going to smash these eggs in Tim's face.

Why?

Jason didn't have a _concrete_ reason, but Tim had been doing annoying crap throughout the day, so he definitely deserved it for something – like writing traumatizing messages on his face.

This was going to be amazing.

It would even be worth hearing Tim complain about his suit.

 _Again._

Jason stood with a grin, wondering why he kept giving Dick such a hard time when this day was turning out to be so awesome.

Well, he wasn't actually wondering. Giving Dick a hard time was hilarious. But, after all this was over, he might just congratulate Dick on accidentally stumbling on the greatest comedy goldmine of their generation – not counting the whole Christmas debacle of course.

Christmas was in a league of its own.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Tim asked, narrowing his eyes and leaning away slightly.

Kid had good instincts.

"Like what?"

"Like you've just come up with an idea that you _think_ is good, but will prove to be very, very bad in real life."

Wow. If it weren't for the fact that Tim was actually completely wrong and this was an amazing idea that would be as glorious in real life as in his head, Jason would commend Tim for his expression interpreting skills.

Jason smirked and shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jason."

The word wasn't so much Tim warning him as it was Tim signaling he understood he couldn't stop what was happening, but that that wouldn't prevent him from fighting Jason every step of the way.

See?

That right there – that graceful acceptance and useless fighting spirit – was exactly why he enjoyed working with Tim so much.

"All right, contestants, grab your eggs and get ready! On your mark-"

Jason saw Damian settle into a crouch, egg already balanced on his spoon. Dick was laughing, copying Damian's crouch. Cass was hopping up and down, her egg eerily still in spite of her movement.

"Get set-"

Jason grabbed an egg and tossed it up and down casually, smirking at Tim; Tim stared back, lips pursed, eyebrow cocked.

"GO!"

All around them, other participants sprung into motion. Cass wasn't even pretending to be normal, running at near-full speed without making a sound – she was definitely going to win. Damian and Dick were head to head; it would be interesting to see how that turned out.

Still, none of that was important, was it?

No, it wasn't.

Because Tim had started walking. It was slow going – his shoulders were in tight line and his steps were mechanical. He was obviously worried about what Jason was going to do.

Smart, smart kid.

Jason hefted his egg slightly before pitching it straight at the back of Tim's head.

Tim gave a full-bodied shudder as the yolk dripped down his neck into his collar. He stood there, in the middle of the field, completely frozen.

Jason smiled at the back of Tim's head, waving at Cass as she made her way back to her bucket of eggs. She didn't even stop to look at him.

He didn't really care; he was too busy waiting to see what Tim was going to do.

Jason jumped a little in excitement when Tim turned around.

"Jason-"

Tim's head jerked back when the egg Jason had thrown at him splattered across his face.

Jason cocked his head and laughed. "Okay there, Tim?"

Tim nodded slowly, tension bleeding out of his frame as he started walking towards Jason.

Apparently, whatever tension Tim had just lost had decided to flee into Jason's body. Jason reared back as Tim approached him. Tim looked _way too_ calm. Calm Tim was not good for Jason's health.

Yelling Tim was good for Jason's health.

Jason couldn't handle calm Tim.

It freaked him out, okay!

"Look, Tim, I think we can talk this out."

Tim nodded again, stepping into Jason's personal space.

 _(Whhhhhhyyyyyyy…)_

"You're right, Jason," he said, setting his hand on Jason's shoulder.

Jason's eyes snapped to Tim's hand.

It was on his shoulder?

Why was it there?

No.

It needed to be somewhere else. Maybe flying over Angola with the rest of Tim's bo-

Jason blinked in surprise.

There was an egg on his face.

 _Tim_ had smashed an egg into his face.

Jason gaped at Tim.

Tim smiled back.

"You just broke an egg in my face!" Jason threw his hands up in the air, stunned.

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "What exactly did you expect to happen?"

Well, not this! He couldn't believe he'd forgotten to account for Tim's general "I will scratch your eyes out and make you choke on them" attitude.

"I hate working with you."

Tim's eyebrow twitched and he snatched up another egg and hurled it at Jason's chest.

Jason snorted. Did Tim really think he was going to get mad because his _shirt_ had egg on it?

"I'm not you, Tim. I can just throw my clothes in the washing machine!"

Jason launched forward and wrapped his arm around Tim, pulling him closer.

"Jason! Jason, get off of me!"

"No! You threw an egg at me!"

"You did it first!"

Tim acted like that really mattered.

Jason held Tim tighter, which was actually kind of difficult, but Jason was like,100 pounds heavier than Tim, so he managed. He grabbed two eggs in his free hand and crushed both of them onto Tim's face.

"Ha! Take that!" Jason grinned, wiping the excess yolk covering his hand onto Tim's suit.

"I hope you die."

"Careful there, you're starting to sound like Damian."

Actually, speaking of Damian…

Jason looked up to see who was winning, only to find Damian, Dick, Cass, _and_ Bruce staring at him.

Well, everyone was staring, but whatever.

"Hey," Jason said, nodding at them. "You still recording on that thing?" Jason motioned to Tim's phone, which Bruce was still holding up.

Bruce looked sort of constipated, but he nodded, so Jason was satisfied.

Or, he would have been, except Tim decided he was tired of being held and proceeded to elbow Jason in the freaking kidney!

"Ow!"

Tim was, frankly, unsympathetic, which he proved by smashing an egg on top of Jason's head.

Jason barked a laugh, but, funnily enough, he wasn't amused. He reached for another egg only to have Tim smack his hand.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I'm done. One more egg, Jason. Throw another egg at me. Go ahead. _I dare you._ "

Well, how could Jason pass up a dare like that?

He couldn't, but it looked like he was going to have to because Damian had just walked up and stolen the tub of eggs.

Jason shot him a disbelieving look. "You don't want me to smash more eggs in Tim's face? You're getting soft, Damian; I'm disappointed."

"You're embarrassing me," Damian stated.

"Oh, well, sorry."

"You should be."

"Are you okay, Tim?"

Jason looked away from Damian to stare at Dick because really? "You're asking him if he's okay? Who just got elbowed here?"

Dick shrugged. "You got egg on his suit, Jason."

"Thank you, Dick," Tim said. "Bruce, you can delete that video."

A part of Jason wanted to protest. But, frankly… yeah, no, he definitely wanted that deleted. Nobody needed to see Tim elbowing him.

But, apparently – unsurprisingly – Tim and Jason were the only ones who wanted the video deleted, because Cass took it upon herself to steal the phone from Bruce and then high-five Dick.

"I'm sending this to us," she said.

"Nice, Cass!"

"Seriously, Dick?"

Dick just grinned back at him. "Look on the bright-side, Jaybird: the egg yolk is sort of smearing the words on your forehead away. I can barely read them!"

"Oh, well, in that case," Jason drawled.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. "How did this happen?"

"The only thing Jason knows how to do is instigate things," Tim replied.

Okay, _that_ wasn't an answer. It was also patently untrue.

"That's a lie."

"That's the truth," Damian countered.

"Oh, so you're on Tim's side now? Again?"

"Of course not. I'm just not on _your_ side."

Jason nodded. That was fair.

"Okay, well, what did Tim do?" Dick asked.

"Oh, we're victim-blaming now? I didn't _do_ anything."

"He's right." Jason nodded, trying to wipe some of the egg off of his face; it didn't work because there was also egg on his hands. "There was Tim, there were eggs. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up."

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Really? And did you think this through?"

Jason did think it through. Sort of. Not really.

He had a lot of fun throwing those first two eggs at Tim, but he'd sort of counted on Tim using human shields. Having egg running down his chest was not the highlight of his day.

"Okay, you're good at interpreting expressions! Is that what you want to hear, Tim? Is that it? Is that what's going to make you happy?"

"No."

"Well, that's because you're never happy."

"Tim's happy sometimes," Dick said. "Mostly when we aren't bothering him, I think."

"Dick understands. Why don't you understand, Jason?"

"I understand. I just don't care."

"Damian, give me the eggs."

Jason turned to Damian, who looked like he was seriously considering Tim's request.

Thankfully, Damian shook his head and moved to stand next to Dick, keeping the eggs out of Tim's reach. "As I said, you're embarrassing me."

Tim pursed his lips and looked at Jason. "You're paying for my suit."

"Ha, yeah, no, I'm not."

Tim sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Jason had to stifle a laugh when Tim shuddered as he realized he was running egg through his hair.

"Isn't that, like, a $50 hair cut?" Dick asked, actually starting to look worried.

Yeah, Tim was probably on the verge of becoming very much not-sane right now. But that was fine. Jason had been down that road before, and it really wasn't as bad as people made it out to be.

"I'm going back inside to clean up."

"That's a good idea," Bruce said.

Cass held up Tim's phone. "I'll keep this for you."

"Great."

"Want some company?" Jason asked, smirking.

"Die, Jason."

Jason snorted and arched an eyebrow at Damian. "Did you infect him with something?"

"Common sense, hopefully."

Jason rolled his eyes and aborted a motion to scratch at the back of his neck. Egg. Right. "I actually do need to get this off of me. Think Tim'll kill me if I follow him?"

"He hasn't killed you yet," Cass said.

"We'll be here when you get back," Dick offered, grinning.

Jason stared at him. "Yeah, then I probably won't come back."

"Good riddance. And keep Drake with you."

Jason pulled a face at Damian before turning around to start after Tim. He pulled another face and wiped his hands on his already ruined shirt.

Yeah.

Next time, he was definitely going to work on his idea execution.


	23. Family Day 5

**Title:** The Obstacle Course

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Warnings:** Contains the most precious individual in the world.

 **Characters:** Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne

 **Summary:** Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.

 **Note:** This is the final chapter of Family Day and the last installment of Grade School. Ever.

I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Dick stared at Tim and Jason as they walked up to the group.

They were both completely soaked. Though, to be fair, where Tim looked like a drowned cat, Jason looked like he'd gotten into a fight with Aquaman and lost. But without the sharks.

He opened his mouth, but paused.

Did he _really_ want to get into this?

The correct answer was no. And, apparently, the others had come to the same conclusion because everyone was ignoring it.

"So, what next?" Cass asked.

Dick turned to her, grinning and pretending that he couldn't see Jason and Tim pulling faces at each other out of the corner of his eye. "That's a great question! How about-"

"I want to go home," Tim said.

They all turned to him.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Tim," Jason mocked.

Tim looked at Jason. That was all. He was just looking at him.

Jason nodded. "On the other hand, Tim has the immune system of a goldfish and he could get a cold and die, so we should probably go home."

Dick thought about protesting, but… that was actually a good point.

"What do you know about the immune systems of goldfish, Todd?"

"Probably less than you because I don't actually care."

"Tt. Todd does make a good point, however. If Drake develops a cold, he'll be useless for weeks – more so than usual."

Tim heaved a sigh. "I'm so done with all of you."

"What did I do?" Dick protested.

Tim shrugged. "I'm done with you by association. Can I have my phone back?"

Cass smiled and passed the phone back to him. "Are you going to be okay, Timmy?"

"I'll be fine. It's Jason you should be worried about."

"What more do you want from me!?"

"$3000."

"You have a problem! Bruce, this is your fault for making him this obsessive. He was probably always going to end up vaguely disturbed, but you made it worse."

Bruce didn't deny it, which was for the best, seeing as Jason was probably right.

"Okay, guys," Dick said, attempting to steer the conversation… in any direction but the one it was going in. "How about we do one more thing and then we'll go home?"

"How about we leave now?" Tim groused.

Damian sniffed and crossed his arms. "I have to agree with, Drake. There's no point in spending any more time here than we already have. You've already sentenced me to spend hours a day here," he shot a glare at Bruce, "but I shouldn't be tortured any further."

"But you're having fun," Cass said.

Dick laughed and clapped his hands together. "I knew you were having fun, Dami! Why didn't you just say so?"

Damian glared at him, determined not to admit it, even if Cass had already told them. Dick just kept grinning.

"So, one more game, guys?"

Tim shot Dick a really, _really_ unfriendly look.

Dick winced slightly. "Or not."

"Stop trying to intimidate Grayson, Drake. And stop letting it work, Grayson; it's embarrassing."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Your emotional constipation is giving me a headache."

"Tim!" Dick protested.

Cass smiled and put both hands on Damian's shoulders to stop him from attacking Tim.

"Wow!" Jason shouted. "That's hilarious. And possibly the most hypocritical thing you've said all day, but I can't be sure about the superlative."

"Hula hoops. Mustard. Eggs. _Water._ I'm allowed to be hypocritical if I want to be."

Jason cocked an eyebrow. "Do you know how to justify things? Like, at all?"

"I justify your existence constantly, so I think I've got some idea."

"Woah! I came out to have a good time, and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now."

"Then you obviously don't know what the meaning of the word 'attacked' is, Todd."

Jason shook his head, face crinkling in confusion. "I think I know what 'attacked' means. I died! I know what it means to be attacked."

"You're always playing the death card," Tim grumbled.

"It's not a card! I _literally died._ "

"We know," Damian said, sighing with a vaguely judgmental expression on his face.

"Okay, now I'm genuinely feeling attacked. What is this?"

Dick shook his head, at a loss. "I have no idea."

"This is your fault."

Dick gaped at Jason. Seriously? "How is this my fault?"

"Everything is your fault," Jason explained matter-of-factly. "Except when it's Bruce's fault."

"Tt. You're ridiculous, Todd."

"You don't get to say that!"

"Are we leaving yet?" Tim broke in, scowling slightly.

Dick stared at him plaintively. Tim's expression remained unchanged.

"I mean, if you really want to," Dick said.

"Good. Let's go."

"Tim!"

( _I didn't actually mean it…)_

"Come on, Timmy," Cass coaxed, walking over to him and wrapping her arm around him, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Just one more."

Tim shot her a look that Dick thought was supposed to be betrayed but really only conveyed a lack of will to live.

"One more?" he intoned.

Dick nodded along with Cass. "Just one, and then we'll go home, right, Bruce?"

Bruce nodded. "One more."

"Finally," Damian muttered, though it was less believable than before.

"This is ridiculous," Jason muttered.

Dick walked over to Jason and bumped his shoulder lightly. "Oh, come on! This is super fun. It'll be a shame to leave, right?"

"Do you know how uncomfortable wet clothes are?"

Tim scoffed.

Dick laughed slightly. "Less uncomfortable than wet spandex."

Jason tried to suppress a grin, but Dick could see it fighting its way onto his face. "I only threw you into the water to protect you from the blast."

"You were still on the docks and you were protected from the blast!"

"I'm sturdier than you are."

Tim sighed, but it was a sigh full of derision and life, so Dick could only feel relieved. "Can we get this over with, please?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're no fun when you're wet."

"He's never fun," Damian said, smirking.

"What are we doing next?" Bruce interrupted before Tim could speak, which was good because Tim was getting his second wind if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

"Hmm… Well, since this is our last event, we have to make sure it's really good. Cass, come help me pick!"

She walked over to him, grinning. "Hmm… What about that?" she asked, pointing to one game.

Dick wrinkled his nose. He liked beanbag tosses, but it wasn't the best they could do – also, Tim and Jason and maybe Damian would end up throwing the bags at each other. "Nah... Ooh! What about face painting?"

"I've had enough of people drawing on my face, thank you," Jason said.

"That's fair," Dick conceded. "Hmm… Oh, this one!"

Cass grinned up at him. "I like that one."

"Then we're agreed! Okay, everyone, follow us!"

Dick linked his arm with Cass's and began leading the way. The others followed shortly after.

"Where are we going?" Damian demanded.

"It's a surprise!"

Jason snorted. "Stop trying to be mysterious."

"What do you mean trying? I'm _being_ mysterious."

"No, because you're bad at it."

Dick gasped and looked over his shoulder at Jason, letting out a huff at the grin on Jason's lips.

"I'm not bad at it; mystery is sort of in the job description."

"That doesn't make you not horrible at it."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Double negatives? Really?"

"Are you- are you correcting my grammar? Really? Why are you correcting my grammar?" Jason cried, staring at Tim in disbelief.

"Why do I have to?"

"You don't _have_ to, is the thing. You really don' 're being pedantic and petty and I shouldn't be surprised, except that I am."

"Whose fault is that, exactly?"

Jason pursed his lips and looked at Damian. "Why don't you talk to him and I'll talk to Dick which is incrementally less torturous."

"Hey!"

"Why on earth would I want to talk to him, Todd?"

"That's a good point. Why would anyone want to talk to him?"

"Don't get mad because some people have good taste and you don't, Jason."

"Good taste cost you an overpriced suit, so I'm thinking its overrated."

Jason looked overly pleased with himself. Tim looked five seconds from… well, Dick wasn't really sure, but it would be bad. And maybe violent.

Thankfully, Bruce intervened by stepping forward to walk between Jason and Tim. "Jason, stop antagonizing your brother."

"You hate fun. If you were a villain, all you would do is stop people from having fun. It would be pathetic and sad."

"Perhaps you're referring to your own attempts at villainy, Todd; nothing Father could do would ever be pathetic _or_ sad."

Jason scoffed. "Okay, one: that's a flat out lie. Two: I wasn't trying to be a villain. Three: if I were a villain, I would be great at it!"

"You _were_ kind of a villain, Jay," Dick said, smiling a little wryly.

"You know what's wrong with you? Your perspective is skewed. It's why you think Damian is cute."

"Damian's adorable!"

Tim's smirk appeared slowly. "So. Which one offends you more, Damian?"

A smile tugged at Dick's lips as he saw the partly outraged, partly embarrassed, partly horrified expression on Damian's face.

"I am _not_ cute."

Dick gave a helpless laugh. "Sorry, Little D."

He was pretty sure Damian could tell he didn't mean it. Before Damian could call him on it, Cass spoke up.

He really loved her sense of timing.

She pointed ahead of them. "We're here."

Dick lit up, grinning and turning himself and Cass around to face the others. "Awesome! Are you guys ready… for the obstacle course?"

Their reactions were lackluster, but he'd learned not to expect anything else. When they actually started the activity, they'd get into it.

" _That_ is not an obstacle course, Grayson."

"Really? This is your last hurrah? I thought you were going to go out on a high-note, Dick. But you choose an obstacle course? And a lame one? Do you know what we do at night?"

"Again?" Cass laughed.

Tim looked disturbed. "Are they wearing blindfolds? Is this a team activity?"

"Yes!" Dick exclaimed. "The person without the blindfold directs tells their partner where to go to avoid the obstacles! That means we get to pair up – and _you_ get to participate again, Bruce."

A look of mild constipation came over Bruce's face, but Cass sidled up next to him and smiled, tugging at his jacket. He gave her a half-smile/half-grimace and nodded. " _Great."_

Jason snorted and crossed his arms. "You're teaming up? Again? Would you do anything this stupid if one of us asked you? No. The answer is no. See if any of us look after you when you're old."

Damian scoffed. "As if he would want your assistance in his old age." Damian turned to Bruce with a solemn look on his face. "I'll look after you, Father."

"Well, _that's_ a comforting sentiment," Tim said.

It would have been an unfair statement except Bruce didn't look particularly relieved at the idea of Damian taking care of him.

Dick shrugged before sweeping his arms out, gesturing to the event. "All right, we're going to have to wait for the people participating now to finish up, but it shouldn't take too long."

Damian snorted. "Please. A bunch of civilians running around blindfolded, stumbling through an 'obstacle course'? We're going to be here all day."

Cass smiled. "Most of them are nearly finished, Dami."

Damian sniffed and crossed his arms, but didn't say anything else.

Dick grinned and wrapped an arm around his youngest brother's shoulders. "Want to team up with me, Damian?"

Damian twisted his lips and sighed. "Fine."

Dick's grin only widened. He was adorable. "Awesome!"

"Um, no."

Dick turned to Tim, confused. Why wouldn't Tim want him and Damian to team up? "Do you want to work with Dami again, Tim?"

Please, no.

As much as he supported them working together and getting along, he was okay with not being zip-tied again.

Tim looked unimpressed. "No. If you team up with Damian, I have to team up with Jason. So… no. That's not happening."

Oh. That made sense.

Apparently, not to Jason.

"Excuse you! I'm a great partner; you'd be lucky to work with me."

"You just started an egg fight with me."

Jason waved away Tim's concerns. "Huh. That reminds me: who won second place?"

Tim scowled. "What?"

"Damian was supposed to lead the patrol route if he won second. If that happened, I'm ditching you tonight to follow Dick and Damian around because it sounds hilarious."

"No, Jason," Bruce said, his forehead creasing.

Dick frowned, cocking his head. "You know, I don't… remember. Dami?"

"We have to go back," Damian said, expression going grave.

Yeah… Damian had been taking their competition _really_ seriously.

"If we go back there, I'll be forced to take drastic action."

Dick edged away from Tim slightly, pulling Damian with him. Tim's version of drastic action tended to involve systematic sabotage and subsequent requisitioning. It was terrifying and bureaucratic and nothing that Dick wanted to be involved in.

"I don't think going back would help," Cass pointed out like the angel she was. "They probably started a new round already."

Damian let out a frustrated growl and jabbed his finger in Jason's direction. "This is your fault for being so juvenile!"

Jason stuck his tongue out at Damian.

Damian raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, unimpressed. "If we're being forced into this activity, I won't work with Todd."

Jason scoffed. "Well, you aren't working with Tim because everyone here will probably end up dead if you guys partner up again." Jason grinned and wrapped an arm around Tim's shoulders, apparently giving up on self-preservation. "I guess that means we'll be working together after all, Timmers."

"I will nerve strike you."

"That won't change the fact that this is happening."

"Why would you even want to work with him, Todd?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're really losing your touch, Damian. Any opportunity to annoy Tim, right?"

Damian nodded grudgingly. "I can respect that, I suppose."

Huh. Dick had never noticed that Tim had his own version of Bruce's family-induced headache face. It was kind of creepy.

Cass smiled at Tim. "Don't worry, Timmy; you'll get Jay back."

Jason gaped at her. "Oi! Why are you rooting for him?"

"Because you're not going to pay him."

"He's going to pay me."

Dick wasn't sure if that was a threat or if Tim was just really, really deeply in denial.

Better not to think about it too much.

"All right, everyone! Grab your partners, grab your blindfolds, and line up! We're about to start!"

Jason pulled Tim closer; Tim glared, but didn't fight him. That was probably a bad sign.

"I think this is stupid, and I'm definitely _never_ paying you, but you had better not drag me down. You're wearing the blindfold."

Tim's face screwed up; he was clearly preparing to argue that statement. Probably all of those statements. Maybe even the statement about this being stupid – not because he actually thought it wasn't stupid, but because Jason had said it. Dick didn't care; he would take what he could get.

But… he would take it from afar. Partly because he didn't want to be drawn into their bickering. Mostly because the obstacle course was starting and there was no way he was missing it.

"Come on, Dami; let's go."

Damian sighed, but didn't protest when Dick started leading them to the starting line. He snagged a blindfold on the way.

He winked at Cass when she stepped up next to him and tied her own blindfold on. She turned to face Bruce, who was standing behind her; she might as well not have had the blindfold on for how at ease she seemed.

"You'll stand here and give me directions," she reminded him.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really need them?"

She just smiled and linked her arm with Bruce's – no direction required, imagine that – before turning back to the course.

Dick huffed a laugh and turned to Damian who was scowling at the obstacle course. "Okay, you ready to guide me, Dami?"

He turned the full force of his scowl on Dick, which was completely unwarranted.

"You'll be guiding me, Grayson."

( _What?_ )

Dick gaped at Damian. Damian stared back at him unblinkingly.

"Are we ditching the obstacle course for a staring contest? Because that's lame, even for you, Dick."

Dick turned to Jason, frowning slightly. "Why do you keep saying I'm lame?"

"Obvious reasons. What are you guys even doing?"

Damian scoffed and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting for Grayson to give me the blindfold."

Tim and Jason wore matching incredulous looks.

 _(Exactly!)_

"You want to run the obstacle course. Blindfolded. This is something you want to do. You."

Damian rolled his eyes. Hard. "That's what I just said, Drake. Don't tell me you're going deaf; you're barely surviving with all of your senses debatably intact."

Tim pursed his lips. "Why?"

Damian smirked. "I thought about what Todd said and came to the once-in-a-lifetime conclusion that he was right: I'm losing my touch. But I think beating you in this obstacle course will be a good place to start my recommitment to the cause."

Dick shouldn't have been relieved at that, but he was. It was just such a Damian thing for Damian to do that he felt reassured that all was right in the world.

Jason snickered. "Nice, Babybat. Nice."

Tim was shooting Dick a look that could have been "kill me now" or "help me kill them now".

Dick gave Tim a half-hearted thumbs-up. Tim made a disturbing sound in the back of his throat and ripped the blindfold out of Jason's hand.

"There are five slots. All five teams have lined up. I want to get this over with; why haven't we started yet?"

Jason snorted, a smile still tugging at his lips. "I don't know. Maybe because you're glaring at the guy who's supposed to be running this thing and he looks like he's about to pee his pants?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jason. I just started glaring at him; that can't be the reason he hasn't started yet."

Jason threw his hands up in the air, but looked more amused than anything. "Are you hearing this, Cass? He's insane; why did you make me pair with him?"

She shrugged, unrepentant, but Dick sort of saw Jason's point.

The poor guy really did look terrified. Tim _could_ be pretty menacing when he put his mind to it.

Dick shot _two_ half-hearted thumbs-up and the event officiator, which made one whole-hearted thumbs-up.

The man looked away and blew his whistle shakily. "All right, let's get started everyone."

Dick wasn't sure if he had helped or made things worse.

"On three: one, two, three, go!"

Dick jolted, a little bit surprised, but Damian had already taken off, blindfold covering his eyes, even though Dick didn't even remember giving it to him. Cass was right behind him – or, in front of him, actually.

Neither Dick nor Bruce had spoken a word.

"I don't think they need our help," Dick muttered, disappointed.

Bruce patted his shoulder awkwardly, but he obviously didn't care about not being able to fully participate in the obstacle course experience.

Dick was really, _really_ disappointed.

"Crap, Tim! Hurry up and put the blindfold on – I told you not to hold me back!"

Dick turned to Jason and Tim, not really surprised at the fact that Tim was taking his time. He _was_ surprised that Jason hadn't expected as much – Tim could be horrifyingly passive-aggressive.

"All right. Where do I go?"

Jason stared at the back of Tim's head, flexing his jaw. "Forward!"

"I know that, Jason. How many steps to the first obstacle?"

"Wha- were you not paying attention when you had your blindfold off?"

"Of course, I was. But I'm not _Damian._ Or Cass for that matter."

Dick shot a forlorn look down the course. Both Cass and Damian were already halfway done.

"This is a team activity and if I have to do this, so do you; I'm not going to carry you, Jason. Do your part: how many steps?"

Dick should have made Tim his partner.

Jason threw his head back and groaned. "Fine! Take 15 steps, Tim!"

Tim sighed liked Jason was the one giving him a hard time. "What sort of steps, Jason?"

"What sort of- Steps, Tim! They're steps; 15 of them!"

"Really? That's what you're going with? What size are they? Are they large steps? Small steps? Damian sized steps?"

Damian wasn't even here and Tim was insulting his size. Dick didn't know if he should be impressed or saddened by Tim's consistency.

Jason didn't care one way or another. "You know what? _You know what?"_ Jason stomped up to Tim and tore the blindfold off of him before wrapping it around his own eyes. "Now what, Tim? How many steps, Tim? _How many steps?"_

Tim started smiling, like this was going exactly how he wanted it to.

Dick should probably warn Jason.

"Keep walking until I tell you to stop."

Jason laughed in a way that was less amused and more "don't think I won't get you back for this". But he started walking anyway.

"What is this?"

Dick turned around to see Damian staring at Jason with an outraged expression. "You finished already?" Dick asked, face falling.

Damian ignored his distress like a pro. "The only reason I ran this obscenely easy course was to humiliate Drake; what is Todd doing?"

Dick sighed and rested a hand on Damian's shoulder. "Good job finishing the race."

Damian snorted and crossed his arms, glaring at Tim.

Tim was too busy "guiding" Jason to care. "Keep going."

"I'm going! Have I stopped walking yet?"

"A little further."

"I'm still walking!"

"A little more."

Jason resorted to grumbling under his breath.

Dick cocked his head, brow furrowing. "Uh…"

"OW!"

Damian snorted and smirked. Apparently not humiliating Tim was okay as long as Jason faced some sort of physical abuse – even if that abuse was whacking his shin on a step stool.

Jason whirled around to face Tim, in spite of the fact that he couldn't see him. "Tim!"

"Oops. Sorry."

"You're not even pretending to be sorry! And here I am – I'm trusting you, Tim!"

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you trying to make me responsible for your bad decisions?"

Dick smiled a bit distractedly when Cass came up to him and leaned against his shoulder.

"Have fun?"

"Yeah. It was good."

Bruce came around on his other side, wearing his patented look of exasperation. "This isn't going to end well."

That was a good prediction.

"I'm trusting you, Tim!" Jason repeated. "You get one more shot!" Jason cracked his neck and turned back to the course. "All right. What next?"

"Why is he trying again?" Cass murmured.

"Todd never learns."

Dick had to agree. The absolute glee on Tim's face was enough to tell them that Tim had no intention of honoring the trust Jason was putting in him. Common sense should have been enough to let Jason know that.

Sometimes, Dick was sure Jason _liked_ when Tim messed with him.

"Take two steps to the left, two steps forward, two steps to the right, and... 8 steps forward. Then you'll reach the traffic cones."

"What sized steps?" Jason sniped.

"Jason-sized steps."

Jason groaned, but followed Tim's instructions. "You're ridiculous. You know that right? I don't know why I put up with you. I don't know _how._ I don't know how anyone-"

Dick slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Neither Damian nor Cass put in that much effort. Bruce was sighing, but Dick thought it sounded a little, tiny bit amused.

And, frankly, it was impossible _not_ to be amused while watching Jason sink calf-deep into a mud puddle because he was trusting Tim not to lead him astray.

Dick stopped trying to hide his laughter, because Jason had brought this on himself.

"Tim." Jason sounded surprisingly calm for… well, Jason.

"Jason."

"Why am I covered in mud."

"I'm supposed to be helping you avoid obstacles, Jason. The mud wasn't an obstacle."

Jason nodded, and then he was snatching off his blindfold, bending down, scooping up a handful of mud, and striding steadily towards Tim, completely disregarding the mud covering his left leg.

Tim's smug smirk dropped so quickly it was a wonder he didn't get emotional whiplash.

"Jason. No."

"Take your punishment like a man, Tim."

Damian looked like Christmas had come early. Or, not Christmas, but some holiday without all of the traumatic memories tied to it.

Dick had never seen Tim more horrified.

"Jason, if that gets on my suit-"

"Suit, schmuit. This mud is going on your face. Stand there, and take it."

"'Schmuit'," Cass repeated, looking vaguely bemused but mostly like she was really enjoying herself.

Tim… Tim looked like he was very much _not_ enjoying himself. Jason was getting closer, and Tim started shaking his head. He turned slightly, backing away from Jason and approaching them.

"Think about this, Jason."

"Thought about it. Decided. Stop moving; they can't save you."

Jason drew his arm back.

Tim froze for a split second. Then he ducked behind Bruce just as Jason launched his attack.

 _Splat!_

Bruce's head snapped back – whether it was because of the impact or the shock of having the bottom half of his face covered in mud, Dick didn't know.

The ensuing silence was… oppressive.

Even Jason was frozen, mouth hanging open at the sight of Bruce. Covered in mud.

Wow.

Dick was having a lot of trouble processing.

Wow.

He coughed faintly and offered Bruce a smile that might have came off more tortured than reassuring. "At least your mouth was closed…"

Bruce looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, arching an eyebrow.

Dick laughed weakly.

Bruce snorted, smirking slightly.

Dick's eyes widened.

"That was a laugh, wasn't it?" Jason asked flatly, arm finally falling to his side as he stared at Bruce.

Dick clapped his hands, ecstatic. "It was! I knew you were having fun! I knew it!"

Granted, it was kind of weird that the first time Bruce had showed it was after getting covered with mud, but… well, they didn't really do normal, did they?

Bruce rolled his eyes before dragging his hand down his face and flinging the excess mud onto the ground. "Right. I'm having fun."

He sounded sarcastic, but he had to be telling at least 60% of the truth.

He'd _laughed._

Well, snorted, but that basically like a laugh in context!

Cass started giggling, which quickly turned into breathless laughter as she leaned over to pat Bruce's shoulder. "Poor… ha… Poor Bruce."

Bruce sighed but offered her a wry smile.

"You're smiling!" Dick pointed at him. "You're having fun! Ha! This is great!"

The only ones who seemed to agree with him were Cass and Bruce – well, that was debatable, but Dick was going to look on the bright side because _smiling_.

Damian looked horrified, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. He didn't manage to get any words out. Dick understood – if there were any time to be speechless, it was now.

Jason had his arms crossed, unconcerned with getting the mud from his hand onto other parts of his body. "I feel… unclean."

Dick hummed. "Is it the mud?"

Jason flapped his arms haphazardly. "No. Bruce laughed. Like an actual person! There was no reason for that and he knows it; he just hates me!"

Dick exchanged a look with Bruce, for once fully empathizing with his exasperation – though he was a little amused too.

It was just so _Jason._

"It's not natural. Unclean," Jason repeated. "Hey, Tim, you got any holy water next to your shark repellent?"

For the first time since Jason had launched his attack, Tim popped up from behind Bruce. "Go to hell, Jason."

Well, that was hostile. Tim was taking the whole mud thingpersonally.

Jason scoffed and crossed his arms, unfazed by Tim's glare. "Been there, done that, why do you think I need the holy water?"

Tim's glare was unfaltering.

"You're a disgrace, Todd!" Damian snarled.

Jason smirked. "Oh, look, he's talking again. It was nice while it lasted."

Dick smiled. "It was, wasn't it?"

5 sets of eyes were all looking at him in disbelief.

Oh, right. Context.

"Not Dami not talking! I mean… this. Having fun and spending time together as a family. It was nice. Right?"

Tim's expression flattened and stepped out from behind Bruce. "I'm going to have so much media to suppress."

Jason snorted. "Fascist."

Tim sneered. "If that's what you want to call me for being the person who keeps us from being investigated by the FBI and Homeland Security, fine."

Bruce heaved a sigh. "Tim."

Cass cocked her head. "I didn't think today was that bad."

"Does the government even have jurisdiction in Gotham?" Dick questioned.

"Don't ask stupid questions," Jason scoffed. "Of course, they don't."

That was fair, actually.

"All right," Bruce said, walking away from the obstacle course. "Let's go home."

"Finally," Tim grumbled, following after Bruce.

"Wait!" Dick called. "Come on, guys. We had fun, didn't we?"

"Tt. You have a strange idea of 'fun', Grayson." Damian rolled his eyes and started after Tim, shooting a sneer at Jason on the way.

Jason shrugged. "Eh. It was all right."

Dick slumped as he watched all of them walk away. "'All right'?"

Cass came up to him, wrapping an arm around him. "I had fun, Dick. They all did, too. Even Timmy a little bit."

He grinned at her. She was the best. "Thanks, Cass. Especially for admitting it!"

Jason waved a dismissive hand in the air, not even bothering to look back. "I don't owe you anything!"

Dick sighed and gave Cass a wry smile.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and grinned back.

( _Today was a good day.)_


End file.
